


You Must Bear Your Neighbor's Burden Within Reason

by blueleafsky



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka is Plo's Padawan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Beta/Omega Worldbuilding, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Is Depa's Padawan, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Fialleril's Tatooine Slave Culture To Be Accurate, Fix-It, Found Family, Gen, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Non-Specific Mentions of Past Rape/Non-Con, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Padawan Ahsoka Tano, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Slow Burn, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), Unreliable Narrator, Worldbuilding, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueleafsky/pseuds/blueleafsky
Summary: All his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi had only wanted to be useful, but everyone kept pushing him away. The Order, the AgriCorps, even the slavers who kidnapped him didn't really want him.He had nowhere to go after escaping except back to the Order, and even then he wasn't wanted, but he stayed anyway, an invisible and lonely ghost in the deserted parts of the Temple.Then one day he met a lonely child who had been a slave, and a lonely teenager-adult who was technically still a slave, and he felt that, maybe, he had something to live for.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Depa Billaba & Anakin Skywalker, Depa Billaba & Mace Windu, Future CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 671
Kudos: 1252





	1. Chapter 1

He really only noticed the change in the air when his training room was opened and cleared.

It was annoying; the room was heavily shielded and so was the perfect place for him to practice his katas without inconveniencing anyone with the holocrons he used, but clearly someone else needed it more, so he sat back on his heels in the entrance and took a few deep breaths, letting his surprise and anger go.

The cleaning droids were whirring away, polishing up the floor and taking away the dust. Not that there was too much dust, since he’d kept it fairly clean. Just enough dust to look convincingly unused, not enough to make him cough and choke as he practiced.

Jedi were bringing in equipment that was decidedly not used in sparring practice. He sat and watched them for a while, silent and unmoving. It looked like they were setting up a gym. Curious.

Perhaps it was the influence of the new soldiers he had caught glimpses of walking the halls alongside some of the more prominent Masters and Knights. They bewildered and fascinated him by turns – all quite different in the Force, each with distinct markings on their identical sets of armor, in colors and shapes. Yet the few times he had seen them without their helmets, they had seemed to have the same face.

Perhaps it had only been a trick of the light and the distance? The vents were useful highways across the Temple, but they were not ideal for gathering visual information.

Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi folded back on himself and slid away from his now-opened training room. He’d have to find another, but first, it was nearly time to slip down to the kitchens and grab some food. It was Zhellday and his fresh food was gone.

As he crouched near the entrance to the kitchens, waiting for the cooks’ attention to turn more to the dining hall and let him begin sneaking food into the bags he brought, he pondered the shifting currents of the Force. It had begun to be far more active than he had ever felt before soon after the soldiers first came.

It was impossible that the Council would allow that many Darksiders into their halls, yet he had sensed a definite, though small, ooze of the Dark coming off each soldiers the first few times he had heard them walking while he traveled in the walls. Their steps were distinctive from any Jedi, and that tiny aura of darkness had made them even more alien. But now he rarely sensed that coming from any of them, though it still lingered in the back of his awareness if he focused on one of them.

Perhaps it was some kind of amulet or small weapon, harmless to a Force-null but disturbing to a Jedi. Perhaps they didn’t even know what it was doing.

He reached out, snagging fruit and bread from the shelves and bringing them to himself, carefully packing them away. It had been a while since he had dared go down and rummage the pantries in person, even if everyone did usually ignore him when he was stupid enough to almost be caught. Getting bigger had some disadvantages.

Yes, he decided as he carefully removed one each of a package of snacks from several shelves, the Council must have detected the darkness and done something about it. There was no way they had not, with how sensitive they were to it. Especially not with all the trouble he had to go to to avoid being found.

Only shielding techniques that were borderline the point of no return from the Dark, a weak Force-suppressing anklet, spending almost all of the few credits he could find or earn on scent-blockers, and sticking to the lower levels of the Temple most of the time, where the signatures became chaotic around the creches and it was considerably harder to pick out one from another from all the centuries of children’s emotions soaked into the stone kept him from having been found and thrown out. Again.

Obi-Wan left the kitchens with two full bags and made his way to his home, a disused and long-forgotten apartment deep under the Temple. There was still running water and electricity, though the lights were dim, and over time he had found or made himself a table and a bed. He had taught himself how to fix the kitchen appliances and they worked well enough for simple food preservation and cooking, and he could at least keep himself and his clothes clean in the ancient fresher.

He sat cross-legged at his low table and ate his last meal of the day, quietly thinking of each thing he had found that day to be grateful for.

It still stung a little, but it was better than living as a slave or on the street.

~~~*~~~

There were soldiers in his training room, painted white and gold.

Obi-Wan sat back in the vent, wary, and watched as they checked out the room, reminding him a little of tookas set loose in a new enclosure. Once they seemed to be satisfied with their examination, they began to relax, taking off their armor. They all wore the same set of simple close-fitting black clothes beneath it.

Some began to use the equipment, or to stretch. A few sat on the side and began to fuss over their armor. It looked like they were either repairing it or cleaning it.

They did all have the same face. Odd.

He gingerly edged closer to the grate covering the end of the vent and inhaled, slow and deep. All he could scent was the lingering residue of the cleaner the droids had used, and the new smell of the soldiers, swirling around and up as they moved. All of them were betas, similar enough to be a family group but not identical.

More strangeness. What were they, to have the same body but not the same scent or Force-presence?

And why were they all betas? Alphas were typically prized as soldiers, with their heightened reflexes and sensory capabilities. They were the instinctual providers and protectors of society. Betas were the negotiators, interpreters, and mediators. Not exactly the kind of abilities anyone prized in a soldier, especially just one of a unit.

Obi-Wan dug his fingernails into the skin of his arms. Not that that was supposed to matter in the Order, but yet it did. The Jedi were supposed to be able to rise above any biological instincts, use the Force to suppress or heighten them as they chose, act as any as they needed to be in any situation. Some argued that it made them weaker in all ways, that they should just let themselves use the gifts of their second gender that they had been born with and not try to take on the others as well, but the Masters and the Council insisted that the chameleon-like ability of mimicking any gender that the Jedi were famous for was important and not in the slightest way damaging to them.

The point was, the soldiers smelled very much only of beta, and every Jedi in the Temple that was past their first few rocky months of presentation as their hormones became stronger with age didn’t smell especially strongly of any single type. It was even less obvious who was what when they used any kind of suppressor or blocker, and it was not unheard of for someone to live out a long and content life without anyone ever knowing what they were.

Whatever these soldiers were, they were no Jedi, and yet the Council had allowed them quarters in the Temple.

Allowed them to live where the children who had not been considered worthy were not.

It wasn’t fair that this abandoned wing of the Temple would be opened for them, but not for children who had grown up there, had never been outside the walls before. They got to come in and be safe, but the children who were unfit to be Jedi were handed a boarding pass for a ship and an assignment to one of the Corps.

They hadn’t even let him prove his worth, prove that he could master his temper and his instincts and be a good choice for a padawan before booting him out the door as soon as it was legal to and not have it be considered child abandonment. They hadn’t even waited for him to turn thirteen, as was the custom of the Order.

It had just been ‘You’re twelve now and still too angry, here’s your lifetime sentence to the AgriCorps, we don’t care that you would be better suited to literally any other of the Corps and put in applications for some of them, get on this ship and go’ with no chance of appeal. Master Yoda himself had walked him to the entrance of the Temple, had tracked him to the battered freighter that took him away, left him no chance of escape.

Obi-Wan picked at the raised white scars that curled down his biceps and huddled more closely in on himself.

The AgriCorps hadn’t wanted him, hadn’t wanted an angry afraid sad child who was just presenting and had almost no ability whatsoever with the Living Force. They hadn’t come for him when the Darksider had attacked Bandomeer and enslaved most of the null population and some of the Corps members, hadn’t bothered to include him in the rescue operation spearheaded by some Knight the Council had sent. They’d let him be taken off-planet before the mines were blown up and sold again.

He’d had to free himself, escape on his own, make his own way across half the galaxy back to Coruscant, and after all of that, be denied entry to the Temple. He’d had to spend weeks sleeping on the streets, trying to figure out how to get inside. Had to spend more weeks hiding in the walls and living off scraps as he tried to find somewhere, anywhere, he could live that was inside the Temple and safe but also safe from anyone ever sensing him and throwing him out again.

He really wasn’t sure why he’d come back, apart from not knowing any other home.

The weird in-between space he had lived in after escaping the slavers had been safe, for a given value of safety, but he didn’t like how the Force was so mutable there and while he appreciated the lessons that the strange beasts who lived there had taught him, he didn’t want to be responsible for people.

He had only ever tried to be Obi-Wan, useful, enough, wanted.

Sometimes he felt that he had stayed on the strange planet for longer than the year and a bit it had taken him to fix one of the crashed ships that littered it and leave. He was nineteen now, still small, paler than ever from living underground and inside walls, still liable to freeze when suddenly confronted and fall apart into shaking pieces afterwards, still nothing and nobody.

Everyone else seemed older, wiser, stronger than he remembered, even from the perspective of his sheltered twelve-year-old self who had never left the creche. The crechemasters he sometimes watched if he safely could had more wrinkles, the youngest initiates he remembered were all either padawans or gone. He knew none of the new ones. That didn’t seem right; he had freed himself at fifteen, spent a year and some on the strange planet, and finally gotten home around his sixteenth nameday.

And now the first safe space he had made for himself where he could let himself dream of being a Jedi was invaded by strange betas who were not even Jedi.

They trained for a long time as he watched them from above, eyes burning and knees held to his chest. They were mostly silent, though they did sometimes give each other encouragement or suggestions. They were surprisingly tactile, easily touching each other on the shoulder or back to give warning as they passed, clasping hands around forearms in what appeared to be approval, and finally all coming together to sit in a ragged circle and cool down.

A few of them slumped across their neighbors, flinging bodies and arms and legs casually into their space, and they were not rebuffed, not gently chided back into proper distance. One had thrown himself bodily across the one to his left as they were polishing their armor, and the recipient had only lifted his arms and set the piece down on their back and kept working.

It was not something he had ever seen before, not among adults.

He ran his hands up and down his arms and watched until they got to their feet and left the room, turning out the lights and closing the doors, and then he followed them through the vents and the walls until he found the set of quarters they were living in; old unused Master-Padawan suites in the same wing, four soldiers to each.

The vents were smaller there and he was now too big to get close enough to the ends to see through the grates, so he listened through the walls and extended his senses cautiously to get a feel for what they were doing through the Force. Most of them were talking to each other in their rooms, and he smelled food.

One of the suites only had one soldier in it, and he wondered why that was so. Was he a bad influence on the rest? Could he not control his instincts well enough, and disturbed the others?

Obi-Wan felt a vague sense of kinship with the lonely soldier. He had been sent away to live in a separate room than his crechemates when he was young, because he could not control his nightmares and the resulting hormones that filled his scent and put everyone on edge.

He sat down in the narrow crawlspace and sank into a light meditation, trying to home in on the soldier’s unique Force-signature so he could remember it for when the man was out somewhere where Obi-Wan could see him and put a face and a set of armor to the signature.

Maybe the man would appreciate some anonymous tips to help him survive a life of isolation inside the Temple? Even if he was a Null and couldn’t sense what he was being excluded from in the web of bonds that all Jedi shared, he would probably face difficulties, be forced to use strong blockers or suppressors, be ignored and scolded for his failings.

Obi-Wan could help him with a few ways to slip under the radar of the Masters and whoever was his authority figure. Obi-Wan could be helpful.

He made his way back to his own quarters as the man’s mind and signature slowed as he went to bed, and resolved to do his best to help his fellow outcast in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

He had meant to leave the first note the next day, he really had. But he was trying to figure out what thing was the most important, what the lone soldier would need to hear the most, and he went for a ramble through the walls to help himself think, and as he passed one of the busiest junctions in the classroom halls, he caught a thin thread of sad-afraid-unsure and went to go investigate.

The small child with the sun-bleached hair and the tanned skin was hiding in the corner of one of the meditation rooms, eyes screwed shut and lips trembling as he tried to calm himself down.

Obi-Wan hesitated, but the child was clearly in need, and so he began to tap quietly on the wall, watching as he eventually startled a little and raised his head.

“Spirit?” the child said quietly.

_Yes_ , Obi-Wan projected into the Force.

It was curious how nobody seemed to be able to hear him if he spoke out loud, but a very few of the youngest children and now this padawan boy that had seemingly come out of nowhere could either hear the words he projected or understand the emotions and thoughts behind them.

The boy looked slightly less dejected. “I’m having trouble with my shields again,” he whispered, tipping his head up and staring at the ceiling. “It’s so loud here.’

_I’m sorry_ , Obi-Wan offered, and carefully reached out to wrap the boy up in his own shields, smiling a little as the child visibly relaxed, small shoulders slumping and a hand going up to rub away the tears from his cheeks.

“Sometimes it would be like this at home, too. But Mom would talk me through making them stronger and help me keep them there, and it wasn’t ever forever. There are so many people here.”

_Don’t worry, you’ll learn quickly. Your shields are already better then they were._

“I’m trying,” the boy said, eyes on the ceiling. “And I won’t forget. Just – everyone assumes I know things that I don’t, and then I feel stupid, and they get mad at me before I can tell them I don’t know what they want and they think I’m being rebellious.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and leant against the wall, pressing his forehead into the cool metal.

_They’re doing it again,_ he growled. _I will not let them hurt you, little one. Tell me what you need to know and I will teach you as much as I can._

He heard a soft gasp and looked up again to see the boy really, truly smiling this time.

“I don’t understand how to read and write in Basic well enough,” he whispered. “I know the letters but they’re really hard to remember. I know Huttese, but they don’t seem to use that here at all. They think I’m stupid. And I want – I want to be a healer, but they say I can’t be if I can’t read and write well or do the mathematics.”

_Why do you want to be a healer?_

The boy raised his chin and a spark bloomed to life in his wide eyes. “I want to know how to find the detonators, and then I’m gonna go back to Tatooine and free everyone. And then I’m gonna go to the next slave planet, and the next, and the next. Jedi free slaves, don’t they? But they never think about just removing the bombs and letting the slaves disappear. They always have to be all loud and beracritic about it.”

_Bureaucratic?_ Obi-Wan suggested.

The boy flushed a dull red. “Yeah.”

_You see the problem differently than your predecessors who wanted to end slavery,_ he admitted, unconsciously touching the white scar on his thigh where he had dug his own detonator out when he escaped. _You will succeed where they did not._

“Really?”

_If you keep the same fire burning in your heart that you have now, yes._

Obi-Wan felt a little guilty for encouraging another defenseless child to actually cultivate the same flaws that got him thrown out of the Order and sold into slavery himself, but this boy wasn’t alone. If he did get thrown out, Obi-Wan would come for him, and they could live in the walls together.

The boy drew himself up, hands moving in a pattern Obi-Wan had never seen but recognized as some kind of blessing. “Thank you, Ar-Amu,” he whispered. “I bear the name of Ekkreth, and I will learn all the ways of the Jedi so I can trick Depur. Thank you for sending me here. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

_Let’s start with teaching you how to fluently read and write Basic,_ Obi-Wan said tentatively after a long moment. The names the boy whispered with such reverence were vaguely familiar, but he had no idea why or where he had heard them before. _When can you sneak away and spend a few moments?_

“I can’t,” the boy said, biting his lip and curling in on himself again. “I have classes, and then classes so I can take classes, and Master Billaba wants to teach me how to fight with a lightsaber already because I almost got killed when Master Jinn found me by a scary dark person, and then they went after him again because they thought he still had me. I’m – there’s always someone around me. I ran away from the teacher and hid so I could be alone now.”

Obi-Wan frowned. _What about at night?_ he suggested, calculating his chances of slipping through the vents to find where the boy slept now that he had his Master’s name. _I wouldn’t be able to spend a long time with you, because you need your rest, but we could study for a few minutes every night and soon enough you will have learned._

The boy’s face brightened, and his Force-presence sang. Obi-Wan reflexively smiled; the boy was so full of Light. Wrapping him up in his shields was like cradling a glowing coal.

“I can do that! I have my own room and everything, and Master said it was okay if I locked the door so I felt safe. She can get in, but nobody else can, and she said she wouldn’t unless I was really sick or hurt.”

_I will find your room and see what I can do. It may take a few nights, but I will be there,_ Obi-Wan promised. _What is your Master’s name?_

“Oh! Her name is Master Depa Billaba, and she’s wicked cool. And so is her Master. He has a purple lightsaber. Is that enough? Can you find me?”

_I could find you anywhere on Coruscant,_ Obi-Wan said truthfully – the boy was so bright in the Force that he could probably sense him if he was unconscious. _But knowing her name will make it easier for me._

The boy nodded sagely but did not say why, and shifted, getting up to his knees. “I’d better go now, or someone will be looking for me,” he whispered to the ceiling. “Thank you, Ar-Amu, for the sandstorm that hides us from Depur.”

And then he was gone, running out of the door, still a little red-eyed but nowhere near as distressed as he had been.

Obi-Wan carefully let his shields relax from around the boy and rubbed his forehead.

That child was fresh meat in a rancor den, and he was going to be eaten alive if someone didn’t help him.

It was both familiar and infuriating to see that nobody was going to do anything about a child who didn’t fit in.

Force help the boy when he hit puberty and presented. If he had a scent-presence anywhere near the strength of his Force-presence, he was looking at a very short stay in the Temple and a long dull life somewhere on an isolated rock far away, all his dreams of being a healer torn away.


	3. Chapter 3

The note to the soldier was the first thing he started on when he finally made it back to his hideout late that afternoon. After much deliberation, he decided that a simple hint on how to appear properly civilized to the Council and the Masters, that he knew wasn’t a typical practice for most cultures, would probably be the most helpful.

He carefully tore a piece of flimsi off a pad he had snagged from the creches and picked up a stylus, wishing that it didn’t have purple ink, but he had to work with what he could get. Tongue between his teeth, he carefully printed the short note in his best, plainest handwriting.

_It’s polite to make direct eye contact at the beginning of a conversation or when first addressed, but holding it is seen as confrontational or deliberately rude. Looking slightly down or to either side after the first few words is polite among Jedi._

He hesitated, scowling, and then added _Jedi use peripheral vision a lot_.

He read over the note and then adjusted the last sentence to read _Jedi use peripheral vision a lot because they have extra senses that Nulls do not and they substitute for eye contact. Too much input is confusing and tiring._

Satisfied, he folded the note and set it aside. That should help the solider and any of the others he chose to share it with not get in trouble for being aggressive or too emotional.

Though they were soldiers, not initiates. Maybe they were supposed to be aggressive? But why were they all betas, then? And how did they all look alike? Was it possible for one set of parents to have that many children that were all the same age and looked that similar?

But that wasn’t his problem, or his business. He just wanted to make sure that the lone soldier didn’t get sent out to die because he didn’t know everything he should have.

Now he had a guide to the Aurebesh alphabet to make. If he just wrote a note like he did for the soldier, it would probably get torn and overused very quickly, so he carefully cut out a patch of tan fabric from a threadbare old robe that no longer fit him and stripped the white threads from its hem.

It took him much longer to stitch the two alphabets, Aurebesh under Huttese, onto the strip of cloth, but he rather liked having something to keep his hands and the surface of his mind busy that wasn’t something too stressful or engaging. Traditional meditation was a dangerous occupation on his best days, because it was so easy to get sucked into the worst of his memories and not properly wake up for days, but doing something small and tedious with his body always helped keep his mind from wandering too far.

And this was even something useful and helpful. Someone had _asked_ for his help.

The boy could pin the cloth into the sleeves of his padawan robes and it would be almost unnoticeable, and he would be able to read the white on tan while anyone not standing next to his shoulder wouldn’t see anything unusual.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if the boy would need to carry the key with him into classes, but it was better to be safe. He also wasn’t sure if having the key would be considered cheating, or forbidden, but he didn’t want to inadvertently cause the boy any more suffering than he already had to deal with.

There was a little space left when he was done and he filled it with the numbers, listed in the same way as the letters. He didn’t know if the boy could read Huttese numbers, but it never hurt to learn.

It would be best if he started off by giving him the key and then having him copy it until he could write the symbols fluently. That would help him recognize them and name them, and then they could start working on the actual reading.

He needed to learn the boy’s name, or whatever he wanted to be called, when he gave him the key. Calling him ‘the boy’ hurt.

How many years had it been since someone had called him by his name? His eyes strayed over to the wall, where he had written it along with the date he had found the rooms and moved in, and the approximate dates of when the things had happened to him while he was away, and the names of his crechemates that had been his friends when he was small.

Sometimes the memories blurred and he could remember the faces but not the names, sometimes the names but not the faces. More often his memories of them were just impressions of voices and hands, brushes of their minds against his before they had made him put up his shields forever.

His fingers trembled and he stabbed himself in the pad of his finger with the needle.

Swearing, he dropped the fabric before he could get blood on it and stuck the finger in his mouth, grabbing the black stick of oily paste (he’d liberated it from a market stall in the Coruscant underworld and it was meant for writing on transparisteel) and marching over to his reminder wall, angrily scratching sketches of what he could remember of their faces.

He wondered if they had gone to the Corps or if they had been lucky enough to become padawans, if they had gotten to get the tattoos that would mark their life’s journey as they became adults. At least two of them had had that as part of their culture, right?

He wondered if they remembered him at all and then ruthlessly forced that thought away and sent it into the Force.

Why should they? He didn’t matter.

At least without him there dragging down their scores and making their clan get singled out all the time, they should have been able to be as good as he knew they were. One of them had wanted to be a healer, he was fairly sure, and one liked the archives, and one had been absolutely fascinated with the Shadows. They would be amazing members of their generation of Jedi.

Maybe one of them would even be on the Council someday.

Obi-Wan went to sleep that night with sore fingers from stitching and holding the stick too tightly as he scrawled everything he could remember from his childhood on the wall, filling it as high as he could reach and moving around the corner to the next one, and with tears drying on his face and running down to make his hair damp.

~~~*~~~

He left the note early the next morning, as far as it was considered to the rest of the planet. Obi-Wan tended to sleep during the middle of the day, tucked away in one of the nests he had made on the upper levels, and sleep some more during the middle of the night in his quarters. Noon and midnight were the hours of most activity for the diurnal and nocturnal inhabitants of the Temple, and carried the most danger of him being sensed as he moved around.

Early in the morning to everyone else was about an hour after his first meal, and he reached out with the Force to sense the lonely soldier asleep in his bunk. His mind was still dreaming, but it was rising quickly to the surface, so Obi-Wan hurriedly floated the folded note out the grate and onto the counter of the tiny kitchenette. Surely it would be noticed there?

He crawled through the duct until he thought he was somewhere above the door, still just inside the quarters, and took out his lightsaber – such as it was. He ignited it, wincing at the soft snap-hiss, and carefully bored a hole in the ceiling just large enough for him to lay down in the duct and look through with one eye. It would make it easier to pass the next note through, rolled up, and guide it with the Force. As it was he had to grab the one he had just left off the floor and direct it several meters further to actually place it accurately on the counter.

Hopefully the soldier would not notice that a tiny charred hole had just appeared above his doorway.

He had intended to leave, but overwhelming curiosity combined with his sensing that the soldier was very close to awaking kept him there, barely breathing in the dusty vent as he pressed his face to the cool metal and watched the slow creep of the smoggy Coruscant sunrise enter his field of view.

The soldier, when he finally came into the room, surprised him. He was younger than Obi-Wan had expected, about the age of a Senior Padawan, maybe, if he was any judge of age from someone’s face and body. He moved a little like a child still, one who had just gone through a growth spurt and had an unexpected few inches to cope with. He was only wearing the dark underclothes that he had seen before in the gym, and there was a nasty scar curling over and around one of his eyes. It was still slightly swollen and fresh.

He was already being picked on, Obi-Wan realized with a sinking sensation. It was just bad luck that whichever of his peers had it out for him had hit him in the face. That had to be embarrassing.

Obi-Wan himself had been lucky; training ‘sabers didn’t scar too often, unless they hit hard and with vicious intent, and his bullies had only ever landed blows like that on his arms and back; places where he could easily hide the bandages and later the shiny scars.

The soldier was unfocused and soft with sleep still, despite his hands moving of their own accord to put on his armor that was piled on the table. Obi-Wan watched him, fascinated by the contrast between the absent peace on the boy’s face and the confidence of his hands.

The light from the window reached the table and shone off the white and gold plastoid of the armor and left golden highlights across the soldier’s face and hair; Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and called on the Force to enhance his senses.

The soldier had freckles, little dark smudges barely visible on his dark skin.

Obi-Wan thoughtlessly brought up one of his hands to brush over his own cheeks, where his own freckles that had earned him so much ridicule as a child in the creche from his bullies ( _he already has scars, what’s a few more? who’s going to notice?_ ) would show up again if he ever went more than a few hours in natural light.

They didn’t look like a defect on the soldier, not in the light and with the armor glowing like that. His eyes caught the light, and widened, and they were more golden than the stars and brighter than the suns.

Obi-Wan stared, and blinked, and seared the image onto the back of his eyes. Then he slowly inched backwards until he was far enough away to get to his hands and knees without being heard, and fled.

He only remembered hours later, sitting in the dark behind the wall of the child he now knew was named Anakin Skywalker, and coaching him through trying to copy down the alphabet, that he had never actually seen if the soldier had picked up his note.


	4. Chapter 4

Depa Billaba, Jedi Master and member of the Council, pushed past her old Master and flung herself bodily into the depths of his ancient couch, pushing her face into the cushions and sighing. The home-calm smell it carried from years of his scent was what she had been craving all day.

There was an amused chuckle from behind her.

“Your Padawan getting to you?”

She waved a hand from where she was slowly sinking into the battalion of throw pillows. “He’s so energetic,” she groaned. “I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, but he can’t sit still for five minutes without having to be up and doing something. He’ll even do chores, Mace. Chores. Without being asked. I have never seen a child’s room so tidy. But I ask him to write one essay and he turns into the most stubborn bantha-headed little shit I have ever met.”

The couch sagged and creaked as Mace took the opposite corner, grinning with just a touch of smug satisfaction. “Welcome to parenthood, stormlet. Where is he?”

“He’s with Master Plo and his padawan, they’re doing an earth science unit together in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. I thought it’d be nice for him to make some friends. But I am serious, Mace, it’s like he suddenly turns illiterate when he’s confronted with a pad of flimsi.”

“How is he coming along in the salles?”

“Oh, he’s fine. He learns quickly, I’m actually working more quickly with him than I expected. He’s very focused if it’s something he can touch.”

“Seeing Jinn go down like that might have something to do with his progress.”

“I took him to see him in the bacta,” Depa said, turning her head a little so her words weren’t completely muffled by the cushions. “Thought it would help; he was having nightmares. I think it did.”

“That’s good. Maybe when, if, he is fit to return to active duty you can ask him to team up with you for a few lessons.”

Depa shrugged, starting a small landslide. Mace frowned indignantly and caught the pillows with a frivolous use of the Force. “He’d probably like Jinn’s fighting style, but it might be a bit slow. He’s a quick little bugger. Sneaky, too. He keeps giving the teachers the slip and going off to sulk in the meditation rooms when they try to assign him reading or essays.”

“Didn’t he pilot a fighter on Naboo? Maybe you could try getting to him that way. Pilots need to read technical manuals.”

“I still can’t believe he snuck onto their ship and kriffing followed Jinn to Naboo.” She sighed explosively again. “No, wait, I can. Yes, he piloted one of their fighters. He said he was told to hide inside it, and then the astromech started it up and the course was locked. He broke the autopilot and had the droid help him join the dogfight around the Trade Federation’s ship.”

Mace grinned, safe in the knowledge that she couldn’t see him doing it. “He is a worthy addition to my lineage,” he intoned in his best imitation of Master Dooku upon being presented with Qui-Gon Jinn’s last padawan learner. He hadn’t been so smug when it had blown up in their faces, what with the child turning to the Dark and trying to murder everyone in the Temple, but a small secret part of Mace had guiltily delighted in seeing Dooku taken down a peg.

A pillow smacked him in the face. “I can smell you smirking,” Depa informed him, and heaved herself upright. “I was not ready for children. My _bones_ are tired, Master.”

“Imagine how mine feel,” he retorted, and then grew serious. “Would you like me to assist you with Anakin’s academic work? Perhaps he has a legitimate issue that is keeping him from learning.”

She frowned, propping her chin on her hands. “I don’t think he has a problem with his sight, and he is intelligent. He takes verbal instructions extremely well and can repeat back almost everything I say word for word even hours after I’ve said it. I know he has trouble being distracted with the Force because he isn’t used to living among so many people, but he is doing very well at adjusting and strengthening his shields, and I meditate with him every day whether he likes it or not.”

Mace raised an eyebrow.

“He needs to move to clear his mind. I’ve ordered him some squishy toys and some metal fidgets, and we’ll see which ones work for him. I’ve noticed he likes ridged or slightly scratchy textures. Once I realized that he needs movement to keep his mind from wandering he is far less reluctant to meditate with me.”

“Good job.”

Depa smiled, but it faded quickly. “I feel like I’m missing something about him. Maybe we should have insisted he join the creche for a few years before being taken on as a padawan.”

Mace shook his head. “No, if anything, what you have told me today reassures me that we did the right thing with him. I don’t think a crechemaster would be able to give him enough one-on-one attention, or have caught on to his quirks this quickly. He needs the individual attention of an adult more than he needs the company of crechemates right now.”

“That’s true. He has nightmares, like I said, and they’d probably be less noticeable in the creche. I want to look into getting him to a mind healer once he feels more secure and at home here.”

“Speaking of which, did his healer’s report have anything unusual on it?”

Depa blinked rapidly. “I haven’t actually seen it. I thought Jinn had him go when he brought him in?”

They looked at each other. Mace shrugged. “I would expect that he did, it’s protocol for a reason, but then you know how he is . . .”

She buried her face in her hands. “Shit, I’m a horrible parent.”

“Not horrible, just new,” he said gently. “Force knows I kriffed up with you often enough, and you turned out magnificently. Children are resilient, stormlet. As long as he knows he is safe and loved with you, he will be fine. Now that you know what he needs, just focus on providing it for him and don’t get lost in should-haves.”

She nodded and inhaled and exhaled shakily. “Thank you, Master. I’ll get him to the healers right away tomorrow morning.”

“Good, that’s a good place to start. If he doesn’t have any medical issues preventing him from learning, perhaps you can also get him interested using the war.”

“What do you mean?” she said indignantly.

Mace dragged a hand over his face. “I think you know as well as I do that this war isn’t going to be over quickly, Depa. There’s a very real chance that you and he are going to be assigned to some kind of combat post together as soon as he’s old enough and cleared to leave the Temple. He’s going to be a Commander, he’s going to be responsible for lives. How is he going to do that when he can’t read or write reports? I don’t mean that you should make him feel guilty or afraid, but if he’s being stubborn about learning academics simply because he sees no use for them, the war is a very real and pressing reason to learn them. It won’t stay a cold war forever.”

“He’s fucking tiny, Mace. I can literally carry him on my hip. He’s too small for a nine-year-old human. I can’t take him with me to a battlefield.”

He frowned in concern as the sour sharpness of her fear reached him, and moved over to sit beside her and drape an arm around her shoulders. “Not now, not as he is, but when he’s a year or two older, with a solid grasp of ‘saberwork and some muscle and weight on him? We barely avoided a complete massacre at Geonosis, we were lucky to only lose those thirteen. If Fett hadn’t turned against whoever ordered the clones and told Vos to expect trouble there, if he had gone alone instead of with them to run the rescue mission for Aayla and the Senator – we’re going to be stretched thin within a year of the actual fighting starting, whenever that happens. We’ll need everyone we can get out there and fighting to protect the clones.”

She leaned into him, pressing the crown of her head against his neck and deliberately letting the scent glands in his wrist rub over her shoulder, relishing in the comfort he was doing his best to exude. “I know that, Master, I was at the Council meeting. I just can’t – I don’t know how I could live with myself if I deliberately led Anakin out to a battlefield.”

“None of us do,” Mace said mournfully. “I had never been so terrified in my life the first time I took you on a mission and we got shot at. I still worry when you are gone. But part of being a Jedi is being able to look beyond the fear and still function, to not be ruled by our instincts and base desires. That’s what makes us more than a group of vigilantes with powers and no oversight beyond the oversight we have among ourselves.”

She nodded. “I know. That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

“No, it’s not easy,” he agreed. “All we can do is our best.”

She nodded again.

“Could I accompany you on the healers’ visit?” he asked on a whim. “I’ve barely spoken to the boy, and I’d like to get to know him better as we are family now.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification on the alternateness of this universe: Quinlan Vos went to Kamino and Aayla Secura was sent to protect Padme. Fett told Vos his suspicions that the Jedi didn't actually commission the clones and about Tyrannus (there was no fight, as events directly related to why Obi-Wan is living in the walls of the Temple changed the public's perception of the Order, so he was more willing to talk. Those will come up later), so Vos went to Geonosis to rescue Aayla and Padme with the full horde of clones. 
> 
> Only a few Jedi died there, and the war did not ignite. It's now a cold war, with the Separatists wary of invoking the wrath of the full-strength Order who were not badly damaged as they had been promised as well as having to completely rebuild the droid factories of Geonosis, and the Republic seeing no point to fighting when they are clearly superior with their shiny new clone army. 
> 
> The Jedi are working with the clones to develop a viable strategy for when the war does begin, so Depa has a breathing space to train Anakin before they will eventually be sent into the war but knows that it will eventually happen. This is also why there are clones living in the Temple.


	5. Chapter 5

Ar-Amu had spoken to his mother in her dreams all her life, and had spoken to her in waking once, when she had given Anakin to her, his mother had always said. When that had happened, she had been walking through the desert on an errand for Gardulla when a sandstorm had risen up and engulfed her, but she had not been killed. She had come out of it unscathed and with a child and a promise of freedom for all the slaves, whether they served in the sand or in the sea.

Anakin had never presumed to think he would have Ar-Amu speak to him; everyone knew that she usually only spoke to omegas and he didn’t know what he would be yet, and he had already gotten his life from her. That was sufficient.

But the bodiless voice that had brought him the knowledge of Aurebesh script and was teaching him the ways of the Jedi had done more than give him knowledge forbidden to slaves. They had brought him a scalpel and bacta patches and clean cloths to wipe away the blood. They had reached out and taken his trembling hands in their own as he made the incisions, the first in his thigh to cut out the detonator, and then in his upper arm to remove the implant that would keep him permanently a beta until whoever his master was decided what they wanted him to be.

He had felt their hands over his and felt them whispering in his mind, lending him their eyes to see the chips embedded in his body even before he made the cuts, giving him knowledge of anatomy so he didn’t nick a vein and bleed out like some slaves had done before. They had held the bloody scalpel in midair as he dropped it to extract the detonator with the tweezers they had given him and wrap the incision before he could get blood on the floor, where his Master might see.

Ar-Amu was with him, he could feel the reminder of their presence in the sting of the cuts and the pull of the bandages beneath his clothes, and he kept his head high as he walked the halls of the Temple after his Master. He might be bound by the ways of the Jedi now, but he was free of both the bombs they had used to control him. He was Ekkreth, the slave who would make free.

He followed his Master into the healing halls and sat obediently beside her in the waiting area. Her own Master had accompanied them, probably to show her how it worked from the other side.

She had been nothing but kind to him, even if she did think he was rebellious and lazy. Maybe if she wanted to be free someday, he would come back for her.

He stole a sideways glance at her. She seemed more nervous than he did. He knew how the yearly checkups went, they weren’t much of anything to worry about. Just checking for any diseases or obviously devaluing injuries or parasites, maybe a vaccination against something if the owner was feeling anxious about losing his property, and making sure the detonator and the hormone implant were still active. They’d probably fuss about his fingers and arms being in proper working order like Watto had always done, since he still needed fine motor control here, but he was used to that.

It would be awkward trying to explain why the detonator wasn’t pinging when they tried to track it. Maybe he could tell them that Master Jinn had taken it out and hadn’t had time to replace it with his own.

Yes, that was a good idea. It couldn’t be disproved anytime soon, since they weren’t even going to let him out of the bacta tank for at least a month.

The healer was a twi’lek, which was strange, but Jedi didn’t seem to care about species. She asked him a lot of questions, but he kept his mouth shut and let his Master answer. He knew how it went. She seemed to still be uncomfortable, kept glancing at him and pausing for awkwardly long lengths before answering the healer’s questions. Then the healer handed him a tunic and told him to take off all his other clothes and put it on, and both of them left the small room he was being examined in. It was turning out to be a far more in-depth inspection than he had ever had before.

Anakin wrinkled his nose and inspected the tunic. It was short and had short sleeves; they’d see the bandages where his hormone implant had been. He couldn’t say that Master Jinn had removed that too, there was no reason for him to have cared about it and the cut was far too fresh. What would they do?

Nothing except give him a new one, probably, especially if he lied and said it was defective and he had been told to get rid of it if he felt it stop working. And maybe the new one wouldn’t be so cheap, making him smell of off-brand fake beta subservience all the time. The Jedi were probably willing to spend more than ten credits on their implants.

He _hated_ always smelling like he was trying to placate someone, even when he was angry.

After he had put on the tunic, he knocked lightly on the door as he had been told to and retreated to climb back up on the examination table, tucking his arms in and keeping his legs close together.

Some of the healers in the past had gotten a little handsy, and Watto had not been pleased. He’d smacked him across the face for being ‘tempting’, and while Anakin wasn’t entirely sure how he’d looked tempting, he’d found that looking small and closed off generally made Watto happier around people who stared at him.

The healer and his Master entered the room together, and both stopped short at seeing the bandage around his upper arm.

“Anakin, what is that for?” his Master asked, distress finally leaking into her scent.

He blinked owlishly at her. “My implant stopped working, and Watto told me to take it out if that happened, and nobody said differently, so I did.”

“This Watto was your healer?” the healer asked, taking his arm in a gentle but firm grip and beginning to unwrap the bandage. “I know things are different in the Outer Rim, but that is an incredibly dangerous and irresponsible thing to tell a child. What was the implant for?”

“You know, the hormone implant.” He looked at their faces and found only incomprehension. “To keep me beta until he decided if he wanted to keep me around or sell me off to either the palace as a guard or the brothels.”

The healer’s hands stopped moving. “To keep you – kriff, a castration implant?” She swore again in a language he didn’t know and opened the door with the Force, shouting something to the droid outside, who beeped an agreement and scurried away. “How old were you when you got it?”

“I don’t remember. Probably when I was tall enough to reach door handles, that’s generally about when they give them to us in case it messes up our growth. If you can’t get through doors, you’re kinda useless for work,” he helpfully informed her as she paused again in her examination of his surgical skills and quirked one of her lekku at him in obvious confusion.

“Anakin,” said his Master, and he turned away from watching the healer thread a needle to stitch up his cut (maybe he should have taken Ar-Amu up on her offer to stitch it closed for him, but he really had thought that if he just kept it bound tightly enough it would close up on its own just fine and he hadn’t wanted to ask her for more than what she had already given) and gave her his attention.

“Who was Watto?”

“I’m going to numb your arm, child,” said the healer, and he felt a small poke and then the pain radiating from the incision began to fade.

“Whoa,” he breathed, eyes widening. “You’re going to use anesthetic on me?”

“Who was Watto?” his Master repeated, and he jerked back to attention.

“Oh, uh, he was our owner. He bought me and my mom when I was little, from Gardulla, and then a few weeks ago Master Jinn bought me from him. Don’t worry, he gave us vaccinations against most diseases and he was really keen on keeping my hands and arms working, because I fixed up the engines and stuff in his shop because I’m small and can get into the spots a lot of grownups can’t. Mom’s a mechanic too, but she taught me to work on them because even though she’s small she isn’t small enough sometimes.”

“Master Jinn bought you?” she said, voice high with incredulity and surprise bleeding out into her scent.

“Well, technically he won me. See, he came to help the Queen when she crashed her ship on Tatooine, and then the ship’s hyperdrive failed, so he needed a new one, so he went into Mos Espa to look for one, and of course he ended up at Watto’s shop ‘cause he’s the only dealer in Mos Espa, and he met me and said I was special and he wanted me to come be a Jedi, but he didn’t have anything but Republic credits so when he knew Watto was gonna have me race in the Boonta Eve Classic he bet Watto the Queen’s ship that I’d win, and if I did he got me and the hyperdrive. And I did win, so he got me and brought me back here and gave me to the Council –” he broke off, looking a little worried. “I did pay off his debt, right? He was nice to me, gave me new clothes and food and everything. Anyway, he gave me to the Council, and I don’t know how you decided who got me of course but you got me! And here I am.”

His Master had been looking and smelling more and more distressed as he spoke, and the healer’s hands were steady as they stitched up his arm but there was sternness in their face that hadn’t been there before.

“Vokara, can I?” his Master said, and at the healer’s nod she came to sit on the table beside him, putting her arms around him, careful of the stitches, and pulled him into an awkward side hug. “You were a slave, Anakin?”

“No,” he said, mildly confused. “I am a slave.”

“No, you’re not – you’re free now. You’re – we – the Jedi don’t keep slaves.”

“But Master Jinn won me,” he said in a small voice. “He won me and took me away. He said I had to come.”

“You didn’t want to go with him?”

“I wanted to be free, I mean, everyone does, but I – he only won me, not mom, and I – I did think that he was going to set me free at first, but after I won the race he told me to pack my things because we were leaving, but mom wasn’t free, so then I knew I’d misunderstood.”

“Would you have stayed with your mom if you had been free?”

“Of course! I’d have had to hide, but I could have figured out how to remove her detonator and then we could have gone into the desert together and started to free the others as well.”

His Master’s arms around him went rigid. “Detonator? Anakin, where –”

“It’s ok, Master, I cut it out too,” he informed her cheerfully and tugged up his tunic to show her the bandage on his thigh. The healer made a sound of alarm and batted his hands away to fuss over it like she had done for his shoulder. “Ar-Amu guided my hands and let me see where it was.”

His Master was breathing deeply, but her breath kept stuttering, and distress was filling the air around her. She put her chin on the top of his head and nuzzled at his hair, and though he had never liked it when anyone but his mom tried to scent him, he found himself . . . not minding being claimed by her.

“Oh, Anakin, I’m so sorry, I should have realized what was wrong. I should have brought you here right away so Master Che could have taken out your implants. You shouldn’t have been forced to – Anakin, can you read?”

He frowned slightly, thrown by the sudden subject change. “Of course I can! Watto even taught me Aurebesh numbers and a few words so I could get jobs done quicker without having to have him translate all the time.”

“What language can you read in?”

“Huttese, nobody except the Masters uses anything else. Technically I wasn’t supposed to know Aurebesh numbers, but he always was a lazy fat fly, so he taught me, and then I taught mom after dark, and she was teaching some of the others too.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated again. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know Aurebesh. I’ll start helping you learn right away.”

“Oh, it’s okay, Master. Ar-Amu is teaching me, see?” He tugged the rolled up strip of cloth with the two alphabets stitched on it out from under the cover of the table where he had tucked it in case someone went through his clothes.

His Master reached out, and he flinched slightly, but she only ran her fingertips over the lettering. “Where did you get this, Anakin?”

“Ar-Amu,” he answered. “She started speaking to me a few weeks ago. Like my mom. I was unhappy one day and she found me, and now I know why she let me be taken from the desert. I’m a skywalker, and I’m here to learn how to free us.”


	6. Chapter 6

They had no official company name, but informally they were known as the Temple company, and CC-2224 was their commander. They all had specializations, and most of them had CC training. Officially, they were posted to the Temple to familiarize the Jedi and the young ones with the army as a whole and maintain a strong and secure presence in the heart of the Republic.

Unofficially, they spent most of their time training with the shiny Jedi teenagers and playing with the cadets in their nurseries. Not that any of them minded, necessarily, and there were also plenty of bodyguard duties, regular guard duties, and strategy meetings to fill their time.

It had been a shock to go from the strictly regimented and insular ways of Kamino to the incredibly diverse and alien Jedi stronghold, and they had all floundered for a few days, until the mysterious notes had started to arrive.

CC-2224 kept them in a notebook and kept the notebook in his quarters, but he brought it along to every training session and they would quiz each other on the bits of advice found therein. Some of the notes were very short and somewhat nonsensical, such as the one that advised them to never eat from the refectory on the fourth Taungsday of every month since that was the day the inventory was done and the food was given less than careful attention, but some were very valuable and explained things they had wondered about but didn’t know how to ask for help with without fearing punishment.

Learning exactly what the colored bands and beads on the shinies’ braids or headpieces meant had helped them immensely, and learning the facts behind why non-sensitives couldn’t train with lightsabers had gone a long way towards curbing their feelings of inadequacy.

They could now tell what passed for a grin or a scowl on a seemingly emotionless face, and understood what bits of commonly repeated phrases were actually sincere and which were a calmly worded version of ‘go kriff yourself with a cactus’. The explanation of how Jedi usually operated in war zones and that they were used to being scouts, spies, and solo operatives not unlike a commando instead of field leaders made the strategy meetings much less painful and almost productive on occasion.

A few of the notes dealt with interpersonal things that were more or less open secrets in the Temple but never spoken of, and kept them from making some embarrassing blunders.

The Temple company, the beginnings of what would eventually be formed into the 212th Battalion of the Grand Army of the Republic once the war got properly underway, didn’t know who their mystery friend was, but they all wanted to meet them very much.

Unfortunately, all the padawans and initiates they casually mentioned learning the bits of information to showed no signs of knowing that one of them was passing along secrets of Jedi culture, and they weren’t really on those terms with the older ones.

CC-2224, known as Cody to the Order, was shadowing one of the official Temple guard in his free time as part of their integration program when he was accosted by two excited younglings and Master Koon, a member of the Council. He folded his hands serenely into his robes and smiled, as much as Cody could tell.

“Will you please come with us so we can go get ice cream?” said the older of the children, a togruta who looked to be on the verge of adolescence, padawan beads swinging from the headdress fastened around the nubs of her montrals as she bounced in place slightly. The human child beside her turned enormous, pleading blue eyes on Cody. He swore he could feel their sadness through the visor of his helmet, and sighed.

“Why me, ade?” he asked.

“We like you!” said the togruta, and the human nodded.

“You taught me an’ the others to do that cool flip landing last week!”

Cody glanced at Master Koon and saw that he was still smiling at them, and then caught Cody’s eye and nodded.

“You’ll have to take me there,” he said, giving in and taking off his helmet. Padawan Tano grinned, her teeth flashing, and took one of his hands. He clipped the helmet to his belt just in time for Padawan Skywalker to grab the other and start hopping up and down.

“I told them that they may spend two hours out of Temple, and go get a treat,” Master Koon informed him. “Master Billaba and I trust them to be responsible, but younglings who are not cleared for active combat missions are not allowed out of the grounds without a capable escort – the Kenobi rule, you know.”

The Temple guard nodded their head and gave Cody a friendly nudge with their shoulder. “Go on, get out into the air,” they said.

“We’re gonna get you ice cream!” Padawan Skywalker cheered, lunging forward and dragging Cody’s hand with him. “I heard Tracker and Spark talking yesterday about how they’d never had it. I’d never had it either until I got here and it’s awesome!”

“Have you had ice cream?” Padawan Tano asked, slightly more in control of herself.

“I haven’t,” Cody said, “but I’ve heard of it.”

Her eyes went round. “We’ll show you all of it!”

~~~*~~~

“What is the Kenobi rule?” he asked as they walked along the street, each padawan still holding one of his hands. “I’ve heard it mentioned a few times but nobody’s said what it actually is.”

“Oh, well, basically, it’s that we can’t leave the Temple without an adult who can –” Padawan Tano looked around furtively and then continued gleefully, seeing no crechemasters lurking nearby “—kick _ass_ if someone tries to kidnap us.”

Padawan Skywalker giggled. “Because slavers like young Force-sensitives, ‘cause they’re expensive,” he added.

“Yeah. Once we pass the tests and can prove we can protect ourselves against a slaver gang, we can go out with a friend or two who’s also passed the tests. We can’t go out alone alone until we’re knighted.”

“I was kinda sad about it when Master explained it to me, but then she told me the story about why they made the rule and the tests and I don’t mind it so much now.”

“Can I know the story?” Cody asked curiously. He knew that the Jedi were fiercely protective of their young, but he hadn’t realized they were that cautious on their own home planet in their own city.

“It’s sad, but yeah,” Padawan Tano said. “So, a while ago –”

“My Master knew them when they were little and she was a Senior Initiate,” Padawan Skywalker interrupted. “And she’s not _old!_ ”

“A few years before I was found,” she amended, leaning around Cody to glare, “someone left a newborn at the Temple because they kept having nightmares and levitating everything and other normal stuff, and they didn’t have the Force so they couldn’t take care of the baby. We took them in, of course, and the crechemasters tried to help, but the child was a real Seer, which is _super_ rare. They had to spend a lot of the time we normally use to learn about self-defense and ‘saber training and everything else on meditation to control their visions, which isn’t, like, objectively a bad thing, but it meant they were a couple years behind everyone else in their clan in class.”

“And then a slaver heard about them, and they decided to try to take us right from the Temple, so they hired a Sith to attack Master Yoda and undermine his mind,” Padawan Skywalker continued with relish. “They made him forget that they’d messed with his head, and he was in charge of the creches.”

“Hey! I’m telling the story,” Padawan Tano whined. “Anyway, so it’s tradition for us to pick what we want to do for the Order when we hit puberty and finish presenting, if we haven’t already picked something or been chosen by an adult. That’d been turned into a standard age for most species. The Seer was mostly human, so it was thirteen for them. But the Sith made Master Yoda forget how old they were, and he sent them away from the Temple to one of the Corps, alone, before they were thirteen. They managed to stay away from the slaver on the freighter that Master Yoda had been told to put them on, but once they got to the planet where the Corps was, the slaver saw his chance and took the Seer captive. And then the slaver gang got greedy and overwhelmed the whole branch of the Corps there since most of them didn’t really have any fighting training and enslaved the whole planet.”

“But if the Seer had had someone looking out for them, they wouldn’t have been taken. That’s why we have to have an adult with us when we go out.”

“The Corps managed to send a distress signal here and a Knight went out and retook the planet, but the slavers killed the Seer so they couldn’t tell us who the Sith was. Because the Sith had already revealed themself to try and turn the Seer, because they were powerful in a rare area of the Force and untrained enough for the Sith to easily overpower them.”

“Master Billaba said that having to have an adult that we choose come with us is protection for the adults too,” Padawan Skywalker said, looking far too serious for his age. “Because when that happened, they found out that Master Yoda had been controlled, and nobody knew for actual _years_ , and they don’t want that happening again. So if we are told to leave the Temple, and we go and find our own random adult, they can tell when something isn’t right and do something about it.”

“You asked me in front of Master Koon,” Cody pointed out.

“Yeah, and about five of the guards, and a bunch of other Knights and Masters were around. They all heard and they all know.”

“And the Seer’s name was Kenobi,” Padawan Tano finished. “They never found their body, after the Sith was done. So the Knight came back to the Temple and put Master Yoda to sleep and brought him to the healers and they did a ritual and found the mind control and fixed it, and then Master Yoda remembered what the Sith and the slavers made him do about us, and then he and the rest of the Council came up with all the new safeguards so there will never be another Kenobi.”

“That’s – grim,” Cody said.

“I know,” Padawan Tano said. “But it’s saved a lot of us. And it’s not like we forgot Seer Kenobi’s fate, or dishonor it. They fought as hard as they could, it wasn’t their fault. The Council has a week of remembrance for them every year where everyone gets checked for compulsions or disruption, even the youngest initiates, by Jedi who come from postings way out in the galaxy. And we check them in turn. And everyone knows the story.”

“Ice cream!” Padawan Skywalker squealed as the shop came into view, hopping up and down and tugging on Cody’s hand, and the conversation changed to a mild bickering over which flavor would be the best for him to try first.

But Cody didn’t forget the story, and that night he retold it to his brothers, so they knew to watch over the baby Jedi even more fiercely, and the night after that, when he lay awake and thinking about it, picked up a stylus and piece of flimsi to write a note back to their mystery guide.

Why hadn’t they mentioned such a vital piece of information?


	7. Chapter 7

There was a piece of flimsi already there when Obi-Wan went to leave the next note.

He squinted at it through the tiny hole in the soldier’s ceiling for far too long, and only the sound of the soldier waking and opening the door had him panicking, snatching the note to himself and shoving his own to the counter and scurrying away down the vent shaft.

It crackled stiffly against his chest as he crawled back to his quarters and each brush of it against his skin heightened his anxiety more and more until it felt like the shafts were closing in around him.

What if the soldier was tired of his fumbling attempts at being helpful? What if he’d told the Council and they were telling him to get out? Maybe they were sending him a warning? Had he gone too far with helping Anakin learn to read? Was Master Billaba angry with him for stepping into her territory and she’d gone to the soldiers and found out that he was also interfering with them and now she was going to chase him down?

He tumbled out of the hole in the wall that was the main entrance to his quarters and yanked the flimsi out of his tunic, dropping it as though it was on fire. Back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, he stared at it for a long, long time, until the too-big chronometer he had found broken in the halls one day and had fixed up and kept buckled around his upper arm under his sleeve buzzed gently, reminding him that it was the middle of his day and time to get out of the highly-traveled areas of the Temple.

The combination of noise and movement jolted him out of suspension, and he reached out a slightly shaking hand to flick the note open.

_“Hello Ghost,_

_I’m sorry, we don’t know your name so we’ve been calling you Ghost. If you have a name, we’ll be happy to use that instead. We thank you for your advice, it has been very helpful as we train._

_I want to ask for more information on the Kenobi rule. I heard the story of how it came to be from the ~~cadets~~ padawans I was chosen to escort on a small mission, but ~~I~~ all of us are curious about hearing more of the details behind it and also very concerned about learning how best to protect the padawans while we do not have a Jedi officer with us._

_Which weapons and tactics should we study first to ensure the highest probability of successfully eliminating slavers and rogue Force users who try to attack the padawans?_

_CC-2224, 212 th Company”_

Obi-Wan read the note once, and then a second time more slowly, mouthing the words as he went.

What in the Sith hells was the Kenobi rule? The name sounded familiar, in a sort of far-off vaguely disliked memory kind of way, but he could think of nothing he had ever learned in his short time as an actual member of the Order that had been called that.

His eyes strayed up and over to his memory wall, where the highest and largest thing, the first thing he had ever written there, was his name and birthdate.

_Obi-Wan Kenobi_ , it said.

He blinked and looked down at the note again to double-check. Yes, it was the same spelling. And he’d found his name in the Temple archives when he’d come back with only the faintest remembrance of it, and it had definitely been his picture on the file, so that had to be his real name.

Some days he could remember easily enough what his birth name was, but others he was barely even sure that he existed. Putting a name on the concept of himself was too much to handle.

He usually settled for calling himself ‘Left’ on those days. It had used to bother him, especially when he had been on the strange world and had even less of a notion who he had been, who he was, and where he was going, but time made everything familiar.

Well, the whole thing was odd. He hadn’t known that he’d had a relative, or at least someone who had had the same surname, in the Order.

But the note was polite, and the writer sounded worried, so he took out his rapidly thinning pad of flimsi to respond.

_“Hello CC-2224,_

_Ghost is a good name. I like it. You can also call me Left if you prefer. Do you have another name you would prefer to be called?_

_I don’t know anything about a Kenobi rule. I’m very sorry. What is it? Are the padawans in danger? And what is the 212 th Company? I have seen many soldiers in the halls but I don’t understand why. Where are you from? Are you refugees who the Order has taken in?_

_I noticed that you have to sleep alone and the other soldiers don’t come into your quarters. Are they punishing you? They made me stay away from everyone too and it used to make me sad. I’m sorry that they’re doing the same thing to you. Being put in isolation makes the voices in your head louder and then they don’t want you around them more and nothing helps._

_And I saw that you were hurt, on your head. My ~~crechemates~~ agemates used to bully me too a lot, and I found a lot of hidden places around the Temple to hide from them. I can show you some of them, if you would like. I can give you some bacta too if you need it. The healers stopped giving me any when I was small and got beat up too much so I learned how to grow my own. I have lots now. It’s a strain that is good at getting rid of old scars. Please don’t be afraid to tell me if you need it, if you get hurt and go to the healers too much they will see you as a nuisance who is too aggressive and they will punish you by not treating you when the bullies go too far._

_Is there anything else you would like me to try to tell you about?_

_Ghost”_

He studied his response for a moment, re-read the note from CC-2224, and realized he’d forgotten to actually answer his question. He’d probably talked too much about himself as well, but he didn’t want the soldier to think he was like the others. He had to explain why he wanted to help.

He scowled unhappily and added a postscript.

_“Slavers are usually easy to kill if you can make them underestimate you. They are lazy and drunk on power. I don’t know much about fighting Darksiders. I assume you mean Darksiders? A real Jedi would not attack a padawan to harm them. My only advice is to run away. If they put any Force-suppressors on the padawans, you’ll probably have to carry them, it’s very disorienting until you get used to it.”_

It looked stupid, squeezed into the bottom of the sheet and trailing up the side of the margin, but it was important information. He winced, thinking of the scolding such a mess would get him from the teachers, and folded up the note. The soldier’s response he put away very carefully in the small wooden box he had made to hold his most important things.

He wanted to deliver it right away, to wait there and see if the soldier read it, if he would write back. It was a little disturbing how much the response was affecting him. But he knew that it would not be safe to vary from his schedule, and so he put the note away and did his best to go about his day, watching over the Initiates and Padawans in class and going to crouch behind Anakin’s bedroom wall and supervise his careful tracing of the Aurebesh alphabet once it was time for him to go to bed.

Obi-Wan got even less sleep than usual that night. The box in the corner of his bedroom seemed to burn in his mind. Now it had three important things in it – the spare pair of tiny kyber crystals he had found along with his main pair, a rock that felt very nice in the Force that had somehow stayed in his pocket the entire time he was a slave, and the letter.

Now _two_ people had not only accepted his help, but thanked him for it and wanted it to continue.

He blinked away tears as he turned over and tried to get some sleep before it was time to deliver the response.


	8. Chapter 8

_“Hello Ghost or Left,_

_You don’t know what the Kenobi rule is?_

_The padawans are not in immediate danger but there is always the danger of slavers and something called Sith or Darksiders I suppose kidnapping them. It happened once long ago to a seer child named Kenobi and that is where the rule comes from._

_I am not entirely certain of the origin of the rule. I only heard the cadet’s version of the story and the files I could find on the Kenobi in the Archives are heavily protected. I think some things were glossed over for the little ones, or at the very least simplified._

_I will tell you more when I learn it._

_CC-2224 is my official designation. The Jedi don’t like us being only called as numbers so we have given them names. The name I have given them is Cody, which is close to my real name._

_My real name is Kote. Please don’t tell anyone who doesn’t look like me._

_I sleep alone because I am a Commander and have earned the privilege of my own sleeping tube, though this set of rooms is much bigger than I expected. Sometimes I go sleep with my brothers if I am lonely. They do not hurt me._

_I got the wound on my face ~~from not watching where~~ in special circumstances and it could not be treated until recently. It was an accident. Nobody is hurting me or any of my brothers since we arrived at the Jedi Temple. The longnecks used to hurt us though so I understand what you are worried about._

_Thank you for worrying. I may have to ask you for bacta someday but we are good for now._

_Which name do you want me to use, Ghost or Left?_

_Kote”_

~~~*~~~

“ _Hi Kote,_

_I like Ghost. Thank you. I won’t tell anyone about your name. I can’t. Nobody can hear me when I speak except for the very smallest babies sometimes, and one padawan. ~~I’m surprised you can read my notes because it’s never worked before~~_

_I’m so glad that you were only hurt in an accident and nobody is bullying you. But if it ever happens, I will try to help. I watch the Initiates and the Padawans all the time and try to help them when I see them being bullied too._

_Who are your brothers? Why are all of you soldiers? What’s a longneck? Where did you come from?_

_I’m sorry again that I don’t know what the Kenobi rule is. There have been no Sith living since the Sith-Jedi Wars thousands of years ago and by now they’re just a scary story. I think that the danger the cadets(?) told you about is probably just a Darksider who scared a padawan on a mission, and no slaver would go after a real padawan. It’s too dangerous. What does the rule say?_

_Ghost”_

_~~~*~~~_

It had taken several weeks, but her padawan had finally agreed to let her watch a literacy lesson with Ar-Amu. She sat in the doorway of his room, legs neatly folded beneath her, and watched as he got out a tattered pad of flimsi and a stylus, setting his embroidered alphabet guide to his side. He waited on his bed with more patience than she had seen him display for anything before this, fiddling with the stylus.

She had been teaching him to write on a datapad. It still required him to form the shapes with his finger as the stylus, and she wondered why this Ar-Amu was using such an archaic form of teaching.

Minutes passed, and nothing changed that she could see, but suddenly Anakin sat up straighter, a smile lighting up his face. His face showed that he was having a conversation, but his mouth never moved and there was no sound.

A small line of golden light coalesced out of thin air and settled on the top page of the flimsi. Anakin set his stylus to the page and began to trace over the letter it showed, tongue poking slightly out of the side of his mouth with concentration. When he had finished, the golden letter moved over and waited for him.

Depa watched as Anakin painstakingly copied down row after row of each letter of the alphabet, the size of the letter or thickness of the line occasionally changing, or the golden light only appearing as he drew, making him chase it and do most of the work of forming the letter himself. Occasionally he would duck his head, or turn pink, or do the excited little wriggle she recognized from when she herself praised him for doing well at something.

Then the light began to outline entire words, dimmer than before. Anakin wrote after it, spelling out simple sentences that were mostly nonsense but used all the letters. He would stop at the end of each sentence and slowly mouth the words, looking like he was reading it slowly aloud but making no sound.

After about half an hour had passed, Anakin uncurled himself from over the pad and dropped the stylus to his bed, yawning a little and looking pleased. He smiled and then flopped over on his back, waved at the ceiling with both hands, and sighed.

“Have they gone?” Depa asked gently.

Anakin startled. “Yes, Master?”

“That was interesting,” she said. “May I look at your work?”

He handed over the pad with a sleepy but beaming smile. She was impressed by the quality of his work, and said so. Anakin blushed.

“She’s a really good teacher,” he said, and then stammered a little. “Not as good as you, Master.”

Depa reached out and ruffled his hair. “It’s okay, Anakin. I’m not good at everything. Nobody can be the best at everything. It’s clear from this worksheet that Ar-Amu is a good teacher for you.”

“I still can’t believe she chose to speak to me,” he murmured, relaxing against her side as she pulled him close. “I never thought she would.”

“I didn’t hear anything, not even when it was obvious by your expression that you were responding?”

Anakin only nodded. “That’s how it goes. Ar-Amu doesn’t speak to many of us, and she will only speak to one. She protects us while she speaks, so the Masters don’t catch us.”

“Is that why I couldn’t hear her?”

He looked surprised. “Oh, no, Master. Not that kind. The ones who own us. They don’t believe she’s real, but she is. And so is Ekkreth. He always outwits the Masters by turning their own tricks against them, and Ar-Amu keeps us alive when we escape into the desert where they don’t dare to go.”

“And so Ar-Amu came here with you?”

Anakin sighed, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned his head into her shoulder. “No, she’s always everywhere,” he whispered. “Everywhere, in everything, anywhere one of her children are. Even if we’re sold away.”

_~~~*~~~_

_“Hello Ghost._

_The Kenobi rule has two sections._

  1. _No padawan who has not passed a set of tests that qualify them to successfully escape from a Force-user assisted slaver gang may go out of Temple grounds unaccompanied by someone holding a higher rank than Padawan who has passed the test. A padawan who has passed the test may not go out without another padawan who has also passed the test until they become a Knight._
  2. _If a padawan or initiate is unexpectedly ordered to leave the Temple grounds by someone of higher rank than them, they must tell another individual of equal or higher rank than the one who gave the order and they must do it with no interference from the one who ordered them. If the one who gave the order tries to force them not to comply they are to resist and call for help as forcefully as they can._



_I’m paraphrasing a little from memory of the written form of the rule I found, but those are the main points._

_According to the story Master Yoda was once mentally controlled by a Darksider and ordered to send the Seer away before they were old enough or experienced enough to fight back when they were taken. The rule is there to protect the cadets from being taken and protect the adults from being mentally controlled. There is also a week of remembrance for the Seer every year where the entire Order is checked for mind control and random checks on random members throughout the year._

_Cadets are to me what initiates and young padawans are to you. I’m sorry, it’s easier for me to think of them like that. Cadets are usually three to seven years old. I don’t know what that is in Jedi years._

_My brothers and I are soldiers because we were made to be soldiers for the Jedi. All the soldiers are my brothers._

_The longnecks are the ones who filled the order for us. They are scientists. We hate them._

_We came from Kamino. Our template is a Mandalorian named Fett. He might have been mentally controlled by a Darksider. I don’t know. The way he acts around us reminds me of the way Master Yoda acted to the children in the story. I have never told anyone about that before._

_Do you know what a Sith is? None of the padawans will give us a definition._

_Kote_

_Why can’t anyone hear you speak?”_

_~~~*~~~_

_“Kote,_

_I do n’t kno –w w hy nobo— dy can h ear men—w h en I ~~tr y to~~ t — alk t o the—m!!!!_

_Hello Kote_

_I’m sorry, you probably can’t read that. I was upset and this is my last sheet of flimsi so I can’t really rewrite this. I don’t know why nobody can hear me. I’ve tried and tried to talk to a few people and they can’t even see me when I’m right in front of them. They don’t feel it if I tug on their clothes or touch their skin. I don’t know what’s going on._

_You’re the first person I’ve really talked to since before I left the creche._

_Anakin is sweet, but he calls me Ar-Amu and I think he thinks I’m just another manifestation of the Force. He is very strongly attuned._

_I’ve never heard of that rule before. It certainly wasn’t around when I was an initiate._

_Master Yoda could never be mind controlled like that. I don’t believe it. Something else must have happened._

_The Jedi would never want an army. Maybe you should tell one of the Masters about your suspicions? It sounds very strange to me._

_A Sith is a Force-user who channels it through pain and anger. The antithesis of a true Jedi. They follow the Sith Code and only bring destruction and death to the galaxy. True Jedi never use emotion._

_I’m sorry I was upset. I know I shouldn’t be. I promised myself I would never go Dark. Ghost._


	9. Chapter 9

_Hello Ghost,_

_The pad of flimsi I’m going to leave under this is for you. From what you’ve said, you don’t want anyone else to know that you’re here, so it must be hard to find things. I’ll miss talking to you if we have to stop simply because you ran out of flimsi and I made sure nobody will think twice about it going missing._

_You’re a Jedi? It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me anything about yourself. I won’t mind. I understand._

_I arrived at that conclusion because you have mentioned coming from the creche, and the word ‘crechemates’ was crossed out once. You also know a lot about Force-users and in your last note you worried about going Dark, which I assume is a shortened word for Darksider? and that isn’t a problem that someone like me would have._

_I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but I know from the combat psychology leadership module that it’s not healthy to not allow yourself to be angry and afraid sometimes, you just have to not hurt your batchmates. Go run some sims instead of taking it out on them, or something like that. Lashing out at a batchmate gets you in trouble because they don’t like us damaging each other, and disrespecting a trainer or a longneck is the quickest way to decom. I think what I mean is, you must be smart about how you show your feelings, but if you try to repress all of them they explode and you pay for it._

_I don’t understand what you mean by saying ‘True Jedi never use emotion’. I know that I’m not allowed to see much of the private life of the Jedi, but when I observe them in the public areas they are no more or less emotional than my brothers. They don’t touch each other as often as we do, but am I correct in thinking that is because they don’t need physical contact? They are always touching each other in the Force instead?_

_Also, Masters Koon and Billaba seem quite worried and protective over their ade. Padawans Tano and Skywalker have taken a liking to me for some reason and occasionally request that I serve as their protection detail outside the Temple. Most of us have received several cadets we are semi-officially assigned to. I have begun to interact often with Masters Koon and Billaba because of this. I hope that maybe when we do go to war they will think highly enough of my skills to accept me under their command. They are very kind to all of us, me and my brothers._

_Padawan Skywalker’s name is Anakin, is he the same Anakin you wrote of?_

_It reminds me a little of how we taught the younger batches on Kamino._

_How old are you? The Kenobi rule was implemented about fifteen years ago._

_I’m almost nine._

_I wasn’t at the Battle of Geonosis, our first real deployment, because I was too young, but now I’m old enough to fight. But there is no war, which is ~~strange~~ ~~confusing~~ ~~frustrating~~ not what we were taught to expect. Do you know anything of why that is?_

_I’m trying to think of more things to say to you, if I am the first person that has been able to talk to you in a while. I hope that’s what you would like. If I say too much please tell me and I will stop._

_I haven’t picked a favorite color yet, but the gold that was assigned as our company’s color is nice. Do you have a favorite color?_

_Padawans Tano and Skywalker had me escort them to a shop that sells a food called ice cream. They were kind enough to supply me with some. I very much liked the texture. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before, smoother than snow but cold. I think it was supposed to have a taste as well._

_We are all learning so many new things here. Food never really had flavors on Kamino and there were only two kinds. Unless we caught fish, but that usually made us sick so we didn’t do it often. It helped when my batch did our module on survival training and learned we had to apply heat to the raw protein, but it still made us feel strange and it was hard to find the resources anyway._

_If you are a Jedi, or grew up in the creche here, why did the healers refuse to treat you when you were injured often? The cadets I see here are always getting minor injuries and they always get them treated. It might be some kind of side effect of the Kenobi rule, but that just seems strange to me. You don’t have to answer._

_I must go to sleep now or I will be late for training and while the trainers aren’t here in the Temple, I still expect to see them when I’m late and I don’t like remembering that._

_Maybe we could be friends?_

_Kote._

~~~*~~~

Obi-Wan crouched in the vent, clutching the unusually thick note to his chest. Kote had written at least twice the amount either of them had before. Had he been that strongly angry or repulsed or both by his admitting that sometimes he struggled with the Dark?

There was also a brand new pad of flimsi lying on the counter just under where the note had been. If he squinted through the hole in the ceiling, he could just see that it had ‘Ghost’ written across its top.

It was left for him?

He sat down with his head hunched down to avoid the low top of the shaft and cautiously opened the note from Kote.

His breath caught at the first sentence. The flimsi was for him. Specifically for him. Someone had left something just for him, not as a mistake, not for someone else who never came. It was _for him_.

In his scramble to get around to where he could reach out with the Force through the actual vent opening on the wall and tug the pad into the vent with him through the wider gap there, he skinned his elbows and ran headfirst into the wall a few times, but he didn’t care.

When he finally had the precious writing pad in his hands, he held it to his chest for a while, absorbed in the faint, lingering sense of worry-help?-nervous-happy that he could feel emanating from it. He’d gotten a few echoes of the emotions and intentions of Kote from his notes, but those were only a single sheet and had been left out for some time before Obi-Wan could pick them up. This was an entire pad of flimsi and evidently Kote had carried it around with him for some time to soak up his faint Force-signature and the intent behind acquiring it so clearly.

It certainly didn’t hurt that Kote was admittedly quite visually attractive as well, Obi-Wan thought with a brief moment of self-pity. He looked like he gave nice hugs, and probably nice smiles too.

He pinched the skin of his forearm, hard. It was not his place to take the offer of continued correspondence and run away with it like that. Mere acquaintance based upon the mutual exchange of necessary knowledge was absolutely no excuse to presume that anything else would ever happen.

It smelled like someone else, too. Kote must have accidentally been holding it against the scent glands in his wrist for a while, because the beta scent lingered, stronger on one edge in particular.

Cheeks inexplicably burning even though there was no way anyone could see him, Obi-Wan dipped his head and breathed in slow and deep, closing his eyes to better concentrate.

Kote, he decided, smelled safe.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t had any contact with anyone who was old enough to have presented, just that he spent most of his time around the younglings. Anakin was the oldest child he had needed to pay any special individual attention to for many months.

Anyway, it was customary for most Jedi to use some form of scent-blocker, even if it was very mild. Just to dial back some of the constant sensory overload most of them struggled with while they were safe and in their home. It was basic courtesy.

The point was, the scent patch lingering on the edge of the flimsi was the closest thing he had had to a friendly touch since . . . He frowned. Since he was about nine, he thought, forcing his mind to review his memories with clinical detachment. He had been having a hard time with his shielding lessons that day, and a crechemate had come in to see him and they had fallen asleep together. He remembered lying awake after the other child had slept and marveling at the amazing texture of their braided hair between his fingers.

Master Yoda had whacked him on the shin in a somewhat friendly way when he saw him off on the transport.

He’d been punched a few times by various slavers who hadn’t taken the time to put on gloves first. Most of them did. And of course he’d shared very close quarters with fellow slaves from all genders and presentations, so it wasn’t like this was his first exposure to someone else’s unblocked personal scent, no matter how inadvertent it had been.

But apart from those few times, this was the first time anyone had wanted to actually make wholly friendly contact with him since he was nine, and it was definitely his first real proof that anyone else existed outside of his head that he’d had since he’d come back from the strange planet.

The awareness he could not turn off of it was even stronger once he was back in his quarters. His quarters that smelled of mostly, him, old paint, and stale dust.

He knew that in theory most non-betas preferred to have their private spaces undisturbed by the scent of someone else, especially anyone who was not family or mate.

As Obi-Wan gently set the pad of flimsi down beside his bed and laid there, his face barely inches away from it, eyes closed tight, he wondered how anyone could ever want to be so alone.


	10. Chapter 10

He woke from his midday sleep feeling a little more settled, though there was still an uncomfortable weight in his chest that felt like it was slowly spreading down to make his abdomen heavy. It nagged vaguely for attention at the back of his head, but he had more exciting things to think about.

Obi-Wan sighed and carefully tore away one piece of the flimsi to write back to Kote once he had read his note. He set it down on the low table and readied his stylus, lying it across the page, and then tucked his legs up more comfortably beneath him and unfolded the letter that was still an unbelievable two sheets long.

Someone had had something to say to him that was enough to take up _two entire sheets of flimsi_ , and it wasn’t like Kote’s writing was unusually large.

The first paragraph, the one explaining that the pad of flimsi was for him, made him feel emotions again and he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to be able to blink away the tears and read the rest. He carefully folded the paper over at that section as well, though he didn’t crease it.

The next part, about how Kote had deduced that he used to be a Jedi, made his nerves tremble a little with suppressed panic, but it was right there; he wasn’t going to tell.

The paragraph on how to handle emotions had him scrunching up his face and staring at the wall. It was true that being blank for so long had led to the disastrous explosions of fear and anger that had led to him being thrown out of the Order. But Obi-Wan didn’t understand how he could possibly find a safe way to express them in low amounts. Training for combat as was suggested wasn’t an option for him, since Jedi were peacekeepers. He had nobody that could communicate with him except Anakin and Kote himself, and it wasn’t like he could ask Anakin to train with him in a friendly fight or something like that.

He firmly shut off the treacherous little thought that almost had him scrabbling for his stylus to ask Kote to meet him in the training room to compare katas.

The next two sections had him going back to breathing slowly and scrubbing at his tears again, though for a very different reason. He was happy that the padawans were getting what he had been denied for his faults, he really was. No other child deserved to be afraid.

It just . . . ached, seeing everything he could not have so close and so obvious.

He decided to start on his reply rather than wait until he finished the rest of Kote’s letter, in case it took him a while to get through it without damage.

_Hello Kote,_ he wrote.

_Thank you so very much for the ~~present~~ flimsi pad. It means more to me that I can ever express. Please don’t tell anyone other than your brothers that I’m here, please. The Jedi will make me leave again if they know. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. Thank you._

_Yes, I was accepted to train to be a Jedi, once. I was an Initiate when I was ~~sent~~ given away. I had a horrible temper and unpredictable strength in the Force; I accept that I was completely unsuited to the Order. I have tried my best to rein in my anger and my fear that used to run away with me as a child, but I still have little to no control over my Force abilities. They are marginal at best and mostly useless, so there is nothing for you or the Order to fear from my presence._

_I suppose I should be grateful that they only sent me away to somewhere I could be more useful that simply putting me down or taking me apart to see why I was such a failure; not that they made a practice of either thing, but Force-sensitives must police our own and it’s not unheard of for the researchers to study unborn children who they knew were Force-sensitive who died in the womb to try and understand why they didn’t survive._

_I understand what you are saying about how to keep emotion from ~~running~~ ruining one’s life, I just don’t know how to put it into practice. Using the Force is all about intent, and if emotions cloud that intent, very bad things will happen. I can’t simply run through a kata or blindly throw the Force about the way you could train or fight. I’d bring down the building. I hope you understand me? I don’t mean any slight or insult at all, you gave me good advice, I just can’t see how to apply it right now but I promise I’ll think about it more._

Obi-Wan set down the stylus and wrapped his arms around his middle, rocking back and forth slightly and chewing on his lip. What if Kote thought he was being ungrateful?

_I’m not ungrateful for the advice. I’ll try to use it, I promise._

He reached out for the letter and read the last few sentences on the first page.

_Yes, Anakin Skywalker is the one who calls me Ar-Amu. I’m trying to help him learn to read and write in Basic since he never learned that language before. I don’t know how good of a teacher I am, but he is learning quickly. He is a lovely child, very smart and generous. I hope you have fun while you protect him._

_I’m nineteen standard years old, as closely as I can make out. I lived on a planet where time felt strange for a year or so and ever since then I feel as if I don’t quite exist. It’s thrown my internal clock all off and the glimpses I get at calendars always take me off guard. I mostly measure the passage of time by my heats now, at least they’re still evenly spaced most of the time. I can track those by making marks on my wall, so that’s the timekeeping I use._

_How can you only be eight? That’s younger than Anakin. I don’t mean to offend, I’m just ~~surprised~~ curious. Does your species age differently than most baseline Humans? Or are the years on Kamino much longer than standard? I’m so sorry if I’m being insensitive or nosy. You don’t have to ever tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m sure I don’t really deserve to know._

He turned to the second page of the letter and promptly felt like he was six again and the creche bullies had punched him in the stomach so hard his ribs shifted.

There was a _war_ going on?

Kote wanted to talk to _him?_ More?

_I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was a war. What was the Battle of Geonosis? When was it? Who fought there? I’m sorry I don’t know about it. I don’t really have a chance to keep up with the news holos and the classes I listen to are about history when they cover politics and other things going on in the Republic._

_Is the Republic at war now? Is that why you’re here? Are the Jedi a target? Why are the Jedi even involved? ~~We’re~~ They’re peacekeepers, not warriors. Only the Knights train in combat much at all, and barely a quarter of the Order even wants to be a Knight even if the career they really want requires the knowledge. I don’t understand, I’m sorry. Most of the military things the Jedi do are just diplomatic negotiations as a third/neutral party, or protecting civilians, or sometimes rescuing hostages, or being an impartial bodyguard or ambassador?_

_I would like very much to keep talking to you if you don’t ~~have a better can’t find someone else to help~~ mind._

_I don’t really remember my favorite color?_

He stopped, lifting the stylus, remembering the flood of sunlight across Kote’s face and how it made his eyes and freckles glow.

_But I like amber, I think,_ he added, and felt uncomfortably warm.

_Sometimes I had ice cream when I was in the creche. The fruit flavors were my favorite. I still like fruit very much. Maybe you would like it if you tried it? Besides liking the texture, I mean._

_Kamino does not sound like a nice place to grow up. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend, but you said you were raised by scientists? and I know that they can be clinical. And only giving you two kinds of food is not nice._

_I think I had a crechemate who had to eat fish. They might have been from an aquatic species. I just remember that I liked some of it but didn’t like others._

_What did you learn in survival training? I never got to learn any of that kind of thing. I was too slow at the lessons and they kept keeping me back from advancing with my crechemates. Survival training would have been useful though._

_The healers. They just didn’t like me I suppose. I kept getting hurt and wasting time and expensive supplies and it was all my fault for being too aggressive so I think they were doing everything they could to get it through my stupid head to stop picking fights. It didn’t work, so of course they weren’t going to encourage me in it. It was okay, I survived. It wasn’t their fault._

A long startled scribble of ink, ending in a smear, wound across the page as he read the last part of the letter without picking up his stylus.

_Please, I would like to be your friend, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I’m not the best friend and you deserve more but please I would like very much to keep talking to you. Is there anything you want? Can I do anything for you? I learned a lot about how to be useful and make people happy when I was sold to some slavers who mostly dealt in Twi’leks. I wouldn’t mind at all, if you want. Is there anything you like that I can do for you or for your brothers? Being your friend would be very nice, please, Kote. Thank you so much for asking and for the gift. It means so much to me thank you so much._

_Ghost_


	11. Chapter 11

All the vod’e were raised on strict routines. Some of them found more comfort in this than others, but they all kept to them even when they were finally deployed.

CC training had included the information that it was acceptable and necessary to change the routines as needed for the best possible performance in the field. So Cody had changed his to include walking over to the counter in his quarters and looking for a note from Ghost every morning after he woke but before he put on his armor, and reading it while he put it on. At night he would write a reply while he took it off.

He was happy, that morning, to see the pad of flimsi and the letter gone and a new one, looking about equal in length to the one he had sent, sitting in its place, and he smiled a little as he snatched it up and turned to where his armor was neatly set out on the table, ready for him.

He unfolded the two sheets and set them out to read while his fingers did up the buckles and snaps on their own. It had been part of his life for so long that he needed nothing more than touch and muscle memory to put his full kit on.

As he read the letter, his brow furrowed more and more. The writing itself was messy, almost uncoordinated in places, when before Ghost had always taken such pains to write like a droid. This looked more like a cadet’s scrawl. The flimsi was wrinkled in places as though it had been held tightly by nervous fingers. At the very end of the letter a vivid smear of purple showed where Ghost’s stylus had evidently skidded across the page and been followed by their hand, spreading the ink.

Yet, with an entire pad of flimsi to start over and make a clean copy, Ghost hadn’t.

Cody might even be able to identify Ghost from this sample of their handwriting, should he ever see it somewhere else. That wasn’t like the impersonal perfection of the previous letters and especially the first few notes.

Ghost had scratched out the only other bit of imperfect writing they had done so heavily it was nearly impossible to make out and had apologized and seemed ashamed that they could not use a fresh piece of flimsi to start over.

And the content; Cody had assumed that they had just had a bad trainer, growing up, and while he was surprised to see that their trainer must have been a Jedi, now that he knew about the Kenobi rule and the reasons behind it, he had assumed that the bad trainer had been under the control it guarded them from. But Ghost seemed so sure that they had failed, not the Jedi.

He wondered for a moment if he should perhaps bring this to the attention of the Council or at least maybe Master Koon or Master Billaba, the Jedi he saw the most, but he reread Ghost’s plea for secrecy and couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Ghost must be a Jedi born with a defect. That made sense. Just like some of the clones came out of the tube wrong, Ghost must have come from wherever Jedi were made wrong.

Cody frowned a little more heavily and rolled his shoulders to try and release some of the tension. Ghost was lucky to have survived so long – brothers born like that never made it to three, usually, between being decommissioned and just dying from the defects.

Nineteen entire years. He knew that clones grew up much faster than natborns, but it still sounded impossible.

And the way they, she, he? thanked Cody so often and so much for giving them communication and help reminded him very uncomfortably of the way the littlest brothers who knew they were running on the edge of failing were so grateful for any sliver of help or support, even if it was disguised as abuse for the trainers’ eyes.

Cody realized with a start that he was leaning forward to reach for his bracers, but had rested on his elbows on the table instead, his face hovering so close to the flimsi that he couldn’t even read it. He blinked, trying to figure out why.

This close, he could catch a faint scent coming from the wrinkles in the sheet that was definitely not something he had ever scented before. Water damage, he thought, and then realized that it came from being held in sweaty fingers, or maybe from tears. He inhaled carefully, opening his mouth a little to let the scent roll around his tongue like he had been taught in tracking and search and rescue training.

It was not the scent of any of his brothers, or someone he knew from the Jedi. All the Jedi had the faint sour-fizz smell of blockers according to how heavily they chose to use them, and his brothers were as familiar to him as he was to himself. Ghost hadn’t been using any blockers recently enough for him to smell it, and they definitely didn’t smell like another beta.

Cody closed his mouth abruptly, flushing slightly as he realized what he was doing, and straightened up rather self-consciously.

He needed to get to his shift.

The contents of the letter haunted him just as much as the elusive trace of Ghost’s scent while he stood guard with the regular Temple guard. Most of it was perfectly normal, though he did find it a little surprising that Ghost hadn’t had any idea that the Republic was at war, even if it was a cold war at the moment. Surely they’d have noticed something if they watched the Jedi as much as they said? Even Padawans Tano and Skywalker sometimes talked about it in hushed voices when they thought nobody was around.

Maybe if it seemed appropriate he could express a request to try some fruit-flavored ice cream and ask them a little about how their classes were covering the current war while they were distracted. They had said they wanted to take him back to the ice cream shop, after all.

But the last paragraph was the one that disturbed him. He had made the offer of friendship sincerely, after careful thought, and hadn’t expected such an anxious answer. He certainly hadn’t expected to learn that Ghost had once been a slave, a real slave, sold between owners often enough to not think anything of mentioning it.

How many of those nineteen years had they spent in slavery, Cody wondered. It seemed a cruelly long time, more than twice the length of his own life so far.

Ghost hadn’t exactly said they had more than one owner, but they mentioned being sold so casually. And from his lessons on breaking up slavery rings for the Republic, it hadn’t seemed like the turnaround was that fast. A slave had to at least earn their keep and purchase price first, or be worth so much to the prospective buyer the slaver had in mind that they were worth buying and transporting in the first place. Knowing that was vital to tracking down their patterns and infiltrating or disrupting their operations.

He pondered if Ghost was a Twi’lek for a solid hour while he stood at the Temple gates and eventually came to the conclusion that it didn’t really matter. Then he remembered that Twi’leks were usually sold as pleasure slaves and frowned again, grateful that he had his helmet on so the passerby on the street couldn’t see the expressions crossing his face.

Ghost was so happy to have Cody ask to be their friend that they were willing to show him, presumably, their training as a pleasure slave in exchange. Him and all his brothers. That had to be what they meant by specifically mentioning being sold to a Twi’lek dealer and learning ‘how to be useful and make people happy’ from them.

Cody felt vaguely sick.

This was far above his rank, he decided as he walked into his quarters and began to take off his armor and clean it at the end of his shift. Ghost was hurting inside, and while he did not want to betray their fragile trust and hope at all, he didn’t quite know how to fix them. Especially not when he didn’t know how to help a former slave recover from their experiences. His training had only been about dismantling the businesses, not what to do with the product.

The Jedi might help, since Ghost had once been a part of them. But if they had not had the skills to continue their training and been sent away, why would the Jedi have an interest in helping them? They would probably just refer them to one of the clinics or shelters they ran for the citizens of Coruscant and then –

Then Ghost would not be there for him to write to, and he would be sad, Cody admitted.

_For Ghost,_

_Amber is a shade of gold, yes? It is a pretty color, but I don’t think it’s my favorite yet._

_Don’t worry about the advice about emotions. Not everything works the same way for everyone and I won’t be offended if what works for me does not work for you. That would not be natural in any case._

_I will attempt to try a fruit flavor of ice cream if I get a chance to have it again._

_The vod’e – that’s me and my brothers – do age faster than baseline humans. It’s something the longnecks did. I’m not sure how it works. Don’t ever worry about insulting them, we all hate them._

_I’ll need more time to write a decent explanation of the war, and I don’t have much time to write more tonight. I just wanted to let you know I read your letter and I also wanted to say that I don’t need anything from you like that, and my brothers won’t ever ask you for anything like that if I have anything to say about it! If they do, I will knock some sense into their empty heads. It is not our way._

_I will say more later._

_Your friend, Kote._

He read the note over and scowled. He could write a better report to Ghost. A shiny could write a better report to Ghost, but he was tired and his mind was racing through all the new information and worries he had received.

His body had been feeling a little strange all day as well, at intervals; tense and battle-ready. His eyes had occasionally hurt in the sunlight and he had experienced a longing to be doing something with his hands, working on something, not just standing guard with his back to an open space. It was a good thing that the next day was the free day that the Jedi had insisted they all take.

It was time to sleep, and he wanted to sleep, but his bunk didn’t feel right. He wasted at least an hour of his sleeping time rearranging his bedroom, and finally dozed off lying on the mattress he had pushed as far into the empty closet as it would go, the frame of the bed flipped up to block the most exposed side, cushions from the other room propped up to make a soft wall around him, and the kitchen table dragged in to finish the barricade around the mattress.

In the middle of it all, he slept, curled around Ghost’s folded letter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I just want to say, don't take relationship advice or friending advice from Obi-Wan? He's not socialized very well and isn't going about this in a healthy, sane, or safe way.
> 
> Let me know if you think the rating needs to be changed or something needs to be tagged. I honestly have a hard time telling.

Obi-Wan ended up crouched in the vent early the next morning, scanning the dark room for Kote’s answer. There was only a single sheet of folded flimsi lying on the counter, and he felt a small spike of sadness. Had he misunderstood and written too much back?

Then he shook himself, scratching his nails roughly over the scars on his upper arms as well. Kote owned him nothing. He should not expect an effusive reply, and he should be grateful that he replied at all. Perhaps he had decided to take him up his offer and that didn’t require a long response, after all, only a time and place.

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about showing Kote the only skills he had that were valuable, but if they would gain him a friend, or even just an acquaintance, he would absolutely do his best. Especially if he could still just talk to him on occasion.

He read the letter by the light of his excuse for a lightsaber, still huddled in the vent above Kote’s small kitchen. Then he took his free hand out of his mouth where he had shoved it to stop the noise from his jagged breathing.

Kote didn’t want him.

_Kote didn’t want him._

At least he said it wasn’t because he refused his advice? Or because he had insulted his home?

But it seemed like he had overstepped something in offering his only viable skills to Kote, or maybe it was that he had also extended them to his brothers? Either way, he was of no use to him.

It said so right in the letter, in his own writing.

Or maybe he could still convince him, Obi-Wan thought, staring at his own shaking hand. Faint red indentations showed on the fingers where he had bitten down. After all, Kote didn’t know what he looked like or what his orientation was. Kote was beta, and they usually didn’t really have an innate preference, so that was lucky. And Obi-Wan had finally realized, after looking at his calendar and paying attention to what his body was telling him, that he was going to start going fully into heat within the next few hours. _Everyone_ always went for either an alpha or an omega in heat, according to his training. He could fake the presentation he wasn’t easily enough to pass, if Kote preferred the other, and that certainly hadn’t bothered anyone during his time with that owner. That part of his Force abilities worked well enough.

So all he had to do was . . . just get down there. And let Kote see and scent him. Now. Before he was too grumpy and in pain to be thorough and pleasing, out of practice as he was, and before his heat faded too much.

His instincts should do the rest, and then Obi-Wan would probably have a chance at having a friend.

He folded up the note and placed it carefully into the pocket of his tunic and then began to crawl back towards the junction of the vents. There was a hatch to get into the maintenance droid tunnels there, and since the Order as a rule didn’t have droids for housekeeping, only repairs, the tunnels were a fairly safe alternative to sneaking around the halls. There would be a small hatch somewhere in Kote’s quarters that would let him come in with more decorum than trying to squeeze through the kitchen or fresher vents or cutting out a hole big enough in the ceiling.

Kote would probably reject him out of hand if he put a hole in his ceiling, regardless of if Obi-Wan could pass it off as him simply being further into heat than he really was and desperate.

That was a stupid myth anyway, something from a pornholo. Alphas and omegas didn’t lose their minds or _need_ sex when they were in heat. Mostly, Obi-Wan thought bitterly as he pried the cover off and slid into the droid tunnel, scraping his fingers on the way, he was just tired, sore, cranky, and emotional.

Not to mention the unpleasant side effects of breaking down and reabsorbing an entire inner organ in the span of a few days.

The increased pheromones were supposed to help him with that somehow, but he wasn’t quite sure how. They never had before, and while he had a vague guess that they were supposed to tell the people around him to be more tolerant of him without him having to outright tell them he was irrational because he was in heat while it was happening, the only thing it had ever seemed to do was make them worse about touching him than they were already. One of the best things about his solitary life was that he no longer had people drooling over him during his heats.

Hopefully Kote wouldn’t be too rough.

_I probably look horrible,_ he thought, standing hunched over in the tunnel and preparing to open the hatch to Kote’s quarters. He ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly very aware of the terrible haircut he had given himself a few months ago with his sad little lightsaber, and of the wrinkles and stains in his tunic he had picked from the throwaway bin in the creche, and his bare feet.

At least he’d washed . . . if not the day before, it was definitely the day before that, and he had splashed his face when he woke. His fingers were a little cut up from biting them and then getting the doors open, but his fingernails were clean. His hair didn’t feel too terribly greasy.

He readjusted the way the slightly-too-short tunic hung on his shoulders and tried to pull some of the wrinkles out of the slightly-too-big trousers beneath it, slid his lightsaber into the pocket, and cautiously opened the hatch.

Kote’s rooms were still dark, for it was still before Coruscant’s artificial dawn. The hatch was in the small living room. Obi-Wan looked hesitantly around and then edged over to stand in one corner. Kote’s armor was all laid out on the small table in front of the sofa. He was always so neat and put together and would not appreciate anyone messing up his stuff. Hopefully he wouldn’t be mad at Obi-Wan for standing in this unoccupied corner, the furthest he could get from touching any of his things.

He felt very exposed without the cosmetics and wisps of clothing he had had to hide behind when this was his job. Exposed and underdressed. Inadequate.

Bracing his spine and the backs of his legs against the wall to stop his stupid shaking, digging his fingers into his scars, Obi-Wan waited for Kote to wake up.

~~~*~~~

Cody came back to consciousness to find himself squashed into a pile of pillows and cushions from all over his quarters, covered with all the blankets he had and a fair amount of his spare blacks. Ghost’s letter was still lying beside him.

He scowled in confusion, staring up at the ceiling and feeling the pillows pull him a little further in. It was definitely comfortable, but something was still missing.

More pillows and blankets were needed, definitely. Maybe an electric blanket, if he could get Fixer to part with one from the medic’s supplies. Or two or three. Some snacks, he could keep them all in a pack so they didn’t get lost. He should pull some more of the moveable furniture in here, make a proper barricade now that he wasn’t so tired. His armor needed to be in here too, to line the edges along with the pillows. And he needed to grab the rest of Ghost’s letters. Those belonged in his collection as well.

He fought his way out of the pillow pile and put some trousers on, only briefly getting distracted by rearranging the cushions to a more comfortable bowl shape, the blankets piled in the bottom. It was perfect for snuggling down into or hiding in.

Maybe he should get the extra bedding and rig up some kind of tent ceiling? Or perhaps just put up a field tent around his nest. He could repurpose the bedframe to hold it up easily enough and use other furniture in its place.

After smoothing down the blankets one last time and discovering the way he could push the bedframe just so to let himself out, he pulled a shirt over his head and stopped to ponder his creation from the outside with a critical eye.

Maybe he should ask Fixer to check him over quickly when he went to ask for the electric blanket? He’d never felt anything like this before. He both wanted to sleep the day away in his new nest and also punch droids with his bare hands and then grind the shattered pieces into tiny bits and present them to somebody. Maybe he could get some of the younger brothers to come sit with him and he could . . .

_Oh._

Well, that was strange. What had changed to trigger this?

He really needed to let Fixer know, and he should probably tell the Jedi as well. They were notorious for either not presenting or presenting so ambiguously that it didn’t matter, but he didn’t think that they had quite the same abilities as indigenous Mandalorians.

Prime had warned them about this. It was one of the few useful things he had done for them.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He didn’t feel too terribly different, which meant that his new presentation wasn’t very far along. It would probably be fairly smooth, which was good. He had a job to do, and a long letter to write, and it was going to be tedious, being distracted by the craving to create things and protect someone for the next few days, maybe even a week.

If he explained what was going on, the Jedi might let him go sit in the creche and hold the little cadets. They might even have some projects that needed to be done there.

But he wouldn’t be able to bring them all back here, where he knew it was safe and he could look after them . . .

What he really wanted was to go find Ghost and bundle them up in his softest blanket, tuck them into the nest and cook some of the food he had just learned about for them and make them happy and content. But that wasn’t going to happen. Ghost wanted privacy and he had to respect that, no matter what he had a craving for.

Anyway, he had no idea how to even start trying to find Ghost, who was a Jedi and managing to live unseen among their own kind. He had only the faintest idea of their scent and no idea at all how they were getting the letters he left on his counter.

He stopped abruptly on a deep inhale. Something was different.

Picking up one of his smaller blasters, he slowly opened the door and edged out into the rest of his quarters. There was a new shadow in one of the corners. The shadow moved.

It blurred slightly around the edges and abruptly disappeared. There was a person there, as pale as his armor, with wide eyes and tangled hair down over their shoulders. They were staring at him, trembling all over as if they were standing in a high wind.

Cody lowered his blaster but did not put it away.

“How did you get in?” he asked.

The person’s eyes flicked to the maintenance hatch in the wall, that he had inspected to see if it was locked when he first was assigned the room and then promptly ignored. He narrowed his eyes, first at them and then at the hatch. It was built for a small maintenance droid. Not even an astromech would be able to fit through it.

Kriff, the mystery person was small.

And skinny.

They smelled like fear and hurt. Something else, too, but that was unimportant.

And cold?

Cody shook his head, trying for some rational thought that didn’t involve blanket piles and the good ration bars. “The droid tunnels?”

They nodded, a slight dip of their head. There was a faint clinking sound and he thought he saw a flash of metal or something similar amid their hair.

“Huh.” He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’ve met someone called Ghost in there?”

Their eyes widened. They stepped cautiously away from the wall, hands held awkwardly out in front of them, half raised as if waiting to be cuffed and half spread placatingly.

“Me,” they said, voice very soft and little raspy. “Me. That’s – I’m. Ghost. Kote?”

Cody blinked. It had to be Ghost, the real Ghost. They weren’t a brother and nobody else knew his first name.

Ghost took a careful step forward, twitching as his hands moved, and he realized he was still holding the blaster. He set it aside hastily.

“Sorry. I didn’t know who you were and, well, training and all,” he said, and smiled nervously.

Ghost’s eyes tracked the blaster until it was set on the floor and Cody moved a step away from it and then they turned their attention back on him.

“I’m really happy to meet you?” he offered, swearing internally at how dubious he sounded. He really was happy to finally meet Ghost in person, just rather surprised at how it was happening. “Are you here for a reason? Fuck, that was rude. I mean, I didn’t expect to meet you in person so soon. I really am glad you’re here, Ghost.” He smiled tentatively.

They took a few more steps towards him, and he noted that they were still shaking. Then they abruptly dropped to their knees as soon as they got within arms’ reach of him, tilting their head back and up a little to show the line of their neck. They shuffled forward a little, and paused for a second before putting one of their hands on his thigh with a touch as light as a spray of seawater, thumb curling around to brush the inside. Their other hand reached up and their fingers hooked around the waistband of Cody’s trousers. They tugged once, gently.

Cody froze.

“Yes?” they whispered, looking somewhere past his leg despite the strange angle they held their head at. Their scent drifted up towards him, familiar from the flimsi but reeking of fear and much more intense in person. Something else was underlying it, sharp and sweet, making him want to snatch them up in his arms and cradle them close until they stopped hurting.

“No,” he said vehemently, grabbing their fingers in his own – _so small, so cold, so pale against his own, they felt like they were only made of bones_ – “Kriffing Sith hells, no. Absolutely not. Didn’t you read my last letter? You don’t have to do that for me or for anyone.”

Ghost burst into tears.


	13. Chapter 13

_Kote can see me._

Obi-Wan stayed back against the wall, staring, heart beating as Kote turned and looked right at him.

He was holding a blaster. For a moment, Obi-Wan panicked. Had he completely misread the letter? Did Kote mean for him to leave him alone?

Then he lowered the blaster, a softness replacing his set expression as his eyes tracked over Obi-Wan.

“How did you get in?”

Obi-Wan threw a pointed look at the maintenance hatch. Kote followed his eyes and nodded slightly. Then he turned another assessing gaze on Obi-Wan, who tried not to blush and fidget beneath it.

He hoped Kote liked what he saw. Would tolerate it, at least.

Kote shook his head, making his heart leap into his throat again, but he only asked, “The maintenance tunnels?”

Obi-Wan nodded and felt the disassembled parts of his secondary lightsaber shift a little from their place pinning some of his hair back. He hoped that his panic didn’t show by the time he raised his eyes again.

_I shouldn’t have tried to comb it out so roughly,_ he thought. _What if he notices? I should have taken off the ear cuff, too._

He hadn’t even noticed he was wearing the ear cuff and the bits of metal braided into the underside of his hair for months, honestly, much less remembered to check them in his frantic scramble to make himself presentable. He’d been wearing both for so long they were just another part of him. But surely Kote could recognize even such a minuscule and dull piece of kyber and the major components for a tiny lightsaber when they would be under his hands and right in front of his face . . .

What if he thought Obi-Wan had come to kill him?

“Huh,” Kote said, catching his attention. “I don’t suppose you’ve met someone called Ghost in there?”

_Me, that’s me, he’s asking after me,_ his heart beat against his ribs.

Even though his legs suddenly felt numb, his joints full of jelly, he pushed away from the cool solidness of the wall and took a step towards Kote, hands going out and down to show him that he was unarmed and meant no harm. If he also twisted his wrists a little to show shimmering paint and cheap jewelry that wasn’t really there, that was pure reflex.

“Me,” he said as loudly as he could, choking on the words. “Me. That’s – I’m. Ghost. Kote?”

Well, that could have come out far smoother.

Kote didn’t move.

_Can he hear me? Did I not speak out loud? Was I too quiet?_

Obi-Wan shuffled forwards another step, taking a breath to try again.

Kote’s hand, still holding the blaster, swung around. He flinched.

“Sorry. I didn’t know who you were and, well, training and all,” Kote said, that pretty smile blooming on his face again as he set the blaster down on the floor and stepped away from it. He turned his eyes back to Obi-Wan as he raised his head and he internally squirmed in anxiety.

As if from far away, he noted that his teeth ached slightly from the shaking.

“I’m really happy to meet you?” Kote said, although he didn’t sound very sure.

_Kriff, he’s not happy I came,_ Obi-Wan thought, breathing deeply to control his nerves, the scent of beta and Kote temporarily filling his head and blinding him to everything else. _But he can hear me._

“Are you here for a reason? Fuck, that was rude. I mean, I didn’t expect to meet you in person so soon. I really am glad you’re here, Ghost.”

And he smiled directly at him.

That was as good of permission he was going to get, Obi-Wan assumed, and he relaxed a little, letting the training take over. He slid noiselessly to his knees and scooted himself closer to Kote, dutifully tipping his head back to expose the scent glands at the base of his throat and beneath his ears, letting the heat pheromones finally fully escape the grip he tried to keep on them with the Force.

He didn’t look at Kote’s face; they didn’t usually like that. But he did see his eyelids flutter in the corner of his vision and felt a small tinge of relief. He put a hand lightly on his upper thigh, placing it just so according to what he remembered most people demanding. Even betas liked a bit of pressure on the scent glands there during this kind of thing, though they generally weren’t as into that aspect of it as alphas and omegas. Still, maybe Kote was one of the exceptions and it was best to start off from a neutral position.

Kote was warm even through the cloth and even though Obi-Wan knew that it wasn’t possible to feel a heartbeat there, he could swear he felt one.

He had been nine the last time he touched someone’s bare skin because it was his idea.

He’d _never_ touched someone’s skin for this when it was his idea.

He slid his other hand up to the top of Kote’s trousers and hooked his fingers over the edge. His skin was so smooth and so warm against their backs.

But Kote hadn’t moved? Hadn’t given him any direction? Maybe he didn’t want to start with this? Did he want Obi-Wan to have less on first? He was rather overdressed compared to his usual clothes for this kind of thing.

So Obi-Wan only gave one weak, experimental tug at the trousers and waited for orders. When none came, he thought that perhaps Kote was simply unfamiliar with how this should go, and so he asked quietly, “Yes?”

Kote moved so fast he didn’t see it happen; all he knew was that suddenly his reaching hand was being held so tightly it felt like the bones were grinding into dust. The fabric that had seemed so soft bit into the pads of his fingers.

“No,” Kote growled, and Obi-Wan would have shot to his feet and away from him if he thought he could have pried his wrist and fingers loose from his grip.

“Kriffing Sith hells, no. Absolutely not. Didn’t you read my last letter? You don’t have to do that for me or for anyone.”

He’d completely misread everything. Kote wasn’t hesitant or inexperienced. Kote was _angry_.

The panic and the fear he’d been struggling to keep down since he read the letter and realized this was his last chance to have a friend rose to the surface too fast for him to control, and Obi-Wan, staring up into Kote’s eyes in silent horror, couldn’t stop the sobs from rising with it.

~~~*~~~

“Fuck, no, please don’t cry,” Cody said, falling to his knees beside Ghost’s shaking little body and tugging them close. He pulled them into his lap, nestling their head beneath his chin, and ran his hand over their back. The knotted strands of their long bright hair rolled uncomfortably beneath his palm.

Ghost needed a bath, and some food, and to be snuggled into his nest as soon as possible. And Cody would need to stand guard over them, and make sure they ate and slept and that they weren’t getting sick –

He needed Fixer, five minutes ago. What if Ghost was sick already? They were shaking so much that he thought they might fall to pieces right there in his arms. They were so cold and he could feel their ribs through their shirt.

Their shirt didn’t even fit them well. They’d need a full kit. None of his or his brothers’ would fit them. They’d have to start on altering some of the spares right away.

He stood up, easily lifting Ghost with him, and worry bloomed even more intensely in his chest. Ghost was so light. There was barely a muscle on them, kriff, he’d had more to him when he was two.

Ghost whined, shrill and frightened, and their arms wound around his neck and clung, cold fingers digging into his shoulders and bunching up his shirt. Cody adjusted his hold so that Ghost was sitting on one of his forearms, held close to his chest, and kept running his free hand soothingly over their back as he strode back into the bedroom to search for his comm.

He had to lift Ghost higher to get both of them over the barricade and into the safety of his nest. Clearly, it needed to be redesigned, but that could wait until he knew Ghost was going to be all right. He found his comm in the pocket of the shirt he had been wearing the night before and adjusted the quietly sobbing person on his lap so that both of them were comfortably sitting with his back to the closet wall.

Voice call only, he decided, looking down at Ghost as they tried their best to burrow their face into his shoulder. He ran his other hand gently over their head and down their hair. In the dim light, it shone like fire.

“What the kark did you manage to do to yourself so early on an off-day?” Fixer demanded groggily. Cody winced. Right. It was still before sunrise.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah, I’m alone in my bunk,” Fixer said, all trace of irritation and sleepiness gone. “What’s wrong? What’s that sound?”

“That’s,” Cody glanced down again and swallowed. “That’s Ghost.” He tugged at the closest blanket until it came free and bundled it around them, covering their bare feet and pulling it up around their shoulders. They still trembled, but not as violently.

“You found them,” Fixer whispered.

“They came to me. Offered to – yeah. What they said in their last note. I did write back and told them no, but apparently they thought I didn’t mean it? Anyway, they need. Fuck, they need everything. They’re tiny and I can literally see all their bones through their shirt and I don’t think they’ve ever been in sunlight before. They’re as pale as a Kaminiise. They can’t stop shivering and they started crying when I told them no again and I can’t get them to stop.”

“Kote, breathe,” Fixer demanded. “I’m coming, I just have to grab my bag. Are there any obvious injuries?”

“Their fingers have a lot of little cuts on them, but they’re not bleeding even though they look fresh. And they smell. Weird? Not bad, but not normal. And I think that’s made me start presenting like the Prime said might happen so, fair warning, I might try to kill you when you come in.”

Fixer snorted and it came through as a burst of static that made Ghost flinch. Cody slid a hand up to cradle the base of their skull, wincing at how uncomfortable the tangles in their hair had to be. Some of them almost felt like there were things caught in them. “Only you, di’kut. I’ll be there in five. If you kill me I will make you regret it.”

“Just let yourself in and lock the door,” Cody said, trying to make himself relax. “I’m in the sleeping room. In the closet actually.”

“The closet?” Fixer sounded genuinely rattled. “Why the hell?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night so I. Might have built a nest? Remember to lock the door after you come in.”

“A – ? Never mind, I’ll figure out what’s going on with you after I’ve seen to them. I’m on my way right now.”

The comm shut off.

“It’s going to be all right,” Cody crooned, his voice dropping into a low purring cadence he had never found before. “We’ll get you all warm and safe and happy. You’re not alone anymore, no, you aren’t. Nobody’s going to make you earn your keep here.”

Ghost shifted a little, twisting around, arching their back and tilting up their chin until the back of their head lay in the hollow of his shoulder, throat bare. They whimpered a little between sobs and the strange sharp-sweet smell grew stronger.

“Shhh,” he soothed, running a careful fingertip down the line of their throat, since they seemed so desperate for touch there. He flinched when he accidentally drew his finger across the scent gland at the bottom, but Ghost didn’t even twitch. In fact, they relaxed a little, eyelids blinking slowly and some of the tension leaving them.

Cody very lightly rubbed his thumb in circles over the hollow at the base of their throat, realizing that it was a lot warmer than the surrounding skin, and a little inflamed as well, and tried to remember what was so important about the glands for non-betas. He’d only ever used his own to acknowledge his batchmates as family, or very rarely to mark some small coveted trinket as his. Betas didn’t really use theirs for anything else. They definitely never got swollen like this, or produced such obvious scent.

But Ghost calmed under his touch until they were no longer fighting for breath between crying jags, and their head lolled on his shoulder, eyes closed and tears drying. The redness stayed, but the hard inflammation was leaving as he pressed a little more.

Cody brushed the tangled hair away from their head, pulling it back and draping it over the arm that was holding them up, and discovered that the glands beneath their ears were similarly inflamed. The quiet little sighs and grumbles that they made when he rubbed those as well made him want to melt into a puddle right there and never leave.

One of their ears had a pretty little piece of armor around it, built from what looked like scraps of wire, adorned with a very small dull rock. Cody couldn’t resist nudging it gently, and Ghost whimpered again.

“Hey, I’m here,” Fixer shouted from the other side of the closed bedroom door. “I’m coming in, Kote, don’t kill me. I locked the door.”


	14. Chapter 14

He’d been wrong about feeling aggressive towards Fixer coming into his nest. Mostly, he just felt frantic to get him in there and start checking on Ghost.

“What the fuck are you standing there for?” he snapped as Fixer opened the door and visibly staggered.

“Yeah, something’s going on with you, you smell _weird_ ,” he said, coughing. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Pull on the end of the bedframe,” he ordered as Fixer eyed the barricade with confusion. He busied himself with adjusting the way Ghost lay in his lap as Fixer wedged himself into the nest, lifting them a little so that they lay across him, their head in the crook of his arm.

They only made a small displeased sound when he moved them, and their eyes opened for a few seconds to focus hazily on his face. He stared back; he had never seen such a vibrant shade of blue before in his life.

“Kote?” they said, barely audible, and tried to turn their face into his chest again.

They were so cold and it didn’t feel right.

He was relieved when Fixer was done with whatever medics did – looking, scenting, measuring, taking a small vial of blood (Ghost hadn’t even seemed to notice the quiet warning or the prick of the needle), prodding gently at their scent glands, and frowning heavily the whole time.

“All right, wrap them up in a blanket properly so you can put them down while I check on you. They’re cold because they’re almost too thin to be walking and talking coherently. I’m sure they’re malnourished, but the blood test will tell me what nutrients they need the most. They said they’re, what, about nine?”

“Nineteen,” Cody corrected, holding Ghost up so Fixer could help him wrap them in the softest blanket he had.

“That’s about nine in our terms. Maybe closer to an early eight. It doesn’t really matter, they’re too thin for any age. They probably won’t be able to eat more than a few mouthfuls at a time, so you’ll have to keep feeding them slowly throughout the day. I’ll bring you some food that will be easy for them to digest.”

“More blankets,” Cody half-suggested half-demanded.

“Yes, I’ll get you more blankets, especially some heated ones for them, and more cushions. Ghost’s going to need something to sit up on so they can eat and you need to be careful of their bones and joints.” He ran a thumb over Ghost’s cheek as they tucked the end of the last blanket around them. “I’ve never seen anyone this skinny. All those bones so close to the skin, with no padding, they must hurt all the time. They probably don’t even feel it anymore. Do you want another mattress too?”

Cody considered, looking over his nest critically. “Yes,” he said eventually. “If you can get a smaller one, I could fit it into the closet. Ghost will sleep there. It’s safe and dark and easy to keep warm. Two mattresses. More cushions like the ones from the sofa outside. I can line the walls so they can’t hurt themself. More bedding. What?”

Fixer was looking strangely at him. “Your turn,” was all he said, and Cody very reluctantly set the firmly swaddled Ghost right beside him for a few minutes while Fixer inspected him as well, keeping one of their small cold hands in his.

“A lot of brothers are going to be losing bets when they hear about this,” was all he said when he finally sat back, grinning. Cody felt instantly suspicious.

“Why?” he snapped, sliding down the wall to curl himself around Ghost, who was watching them with half-closed eyes. They nestled into the curve of his body with a soft little sigh as he drew them close.

“They all bet on you presenting just like the Prime someday.”

Cody blinked. “What? Haven’t I? But I’m not still a beta, right? I know something’s changed.”

Fixer looked far too happy. “Nope,” he said, drawing out the word. “You’re not a beta anymore, and you’re certainly not omega. Vod, you’ve built a nest. You’ve found the closest omega in heat to snuggle into it. I can smell you trying to get me to stay here. You’re nothing like the Prime. I don’t think you’d leave to go threaten a longneck or draw up new training exercises or plan out a hunt if your life depended on it.”

“I’m an alpha?” Cody said incredulously. Then he looked around and sighed. “Yeah, I’m an alpha. Kriff. What are we going to tell the Jedi?”

“ _You_ need to first of all feed yourself, and then help Ghost get clean and feed them as well. Give them a warm water shower if you can get them to agree, not a sonic, because that will help them warm up. A bath would be even better if your rooms have one of the tubs –”

Cody nodded. “I tried it once, it was strange, but I know how to use it now.”

“— good. Wrap them up again right after they’re dry and in clean clothes, but not too tightly, because they’re not strong enough to get themselves out right now. Keep them in blankets while you’re not able to hold them, but your body heat will be the best for them; only keep one or two layers between you. Your temperature is going to be higher than normal for a few days, but you won’t feel feverish, so you should easily be able to keep them warm. They can fit in your spare clothes for a few hours while we adjust some for them. If they don’t want ration bars right now, they’ll probably accept liquids more easily than solid food, so warm up some milk from the rations the Jedi give us or make them some broth.” He stared until Cody nodded and then continued.

“ _I_ am going to go report to the Healers and requisition some supplies for you. I think someone has told them in the past about the quirks of presentation that biological Mando’ade have, because they already informed me that if any of us had them I was to inform them and we would be given the same resources as the cadets who go through their presentation heats.”

Cody lunged, grabbing Fixer by the arms. “You can’t tell them about Ghost,” he snarled, shaking him. “I promised. They’re afraid of the Jedi and I won’t let them take them away. I promised.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone about Ghost,” Fixer said, leaning back. “I promised to keep their secrets too, remember? Calm down, Kote, before you push too far.”

Cody let go, and Fixer winced. He would have bruises in a few minutes, shaped like Cody’s hands.

“Sorry,” Cody muttered.

“It’s all right, you were scared and I’ve had worse,” he said evenly. “Still hurts like hell, though. Don’t do that to Ghost, you’ll break their bones. I mean it.”

“I would not,” he snapped, looking down to where Ghost had reached out to snuggle his leg now that he was sitting up, and putting a hand on their head.

Fixer sighed and stood up. “I’ll be back with food that hopefully is better than rations for them, but I’ll send the blankets and the mattress with someone else. I’ll tell them to leave them in the outside rooms. Your scent is strong enough to cover Ghost’s since this is your first heat and clearly they’ve been in heat before. Don’t worry about it too much, and if you are, it is safe for them to use a light blocker even during heat if it’s a low-scent salve applied directly only on the scent glands. Don’t use any sprays around them.”

“Ghost is in heat?” Cody said, worry spiking.

“Yes, that’s why they smell funny and their scent glands are swelling, though I think the extent of the swelling might have something to do with stress,” Fixer said patiently, navigating back out of the nest. “I’ll also bring the things they’ll need when the bleeding starts so they don’t make a mess of your nest. They’ll know what to do, Kote, don’t worry too much about that. Your scent glands are also going to be sore and swell, starting in the next few hours, but it shouldn’t be nearly as bad as theirs. It’s not supposed to be.”

“I know how to help a brother through a period, Fixer.”

“Heats are a little different. They’re usually shorter, more intense, and they won’t just be losing blood, they’ll also be draining their scent glands. So will you. It’s going to be colorless, thicker and stickier than blood, and smell very strong, but it’s supposed to happen and it’s not a sign of anything bad. I’ll bring you the information I have on it and on alpha heats so you’ll know what’s happening to you. What I have on it, stupid longnecks,” he grumbled, almost at the door. He pointed a finger at Cody. “ _Don’t_ have sex with them, no matter if they want it or not. They’re probably going to ask you at some point if they’ve already tried it once. _Don’t do it._ ”

“What the kark, Fixer, I’d never –”

“Some omegas do use it as therapy for heat cramps, headaches, and calming the elevated hormone levels faster than the natural duration of the heat,” he said, not smiling any more. “Ghost isn’t strong enough for it right now, and even though it does technically work, it’s a very intimate thing that should only be done between mates. They’re going to smell very attractive to you and you’re going to smell very attractive to them, especially right now because you’re going into an alpha’s heat at the same time. I don’t know if the attraction from you is going to be sexual or not, but if you’re a danger to them, I will not hesitate to stun you and take you away from them until you’re back in control of yourself.”

“I’m not touching them like that,” Cody growled. “ _Nobody is touching them like that._ ”

Fixer stared at him, hard, and then nodded. “Good. I think you’re clear on that front. I’m going to report to the Jedi medics now, someone will be along with your stuff as soon as I can write up a list.” He closed the door, and Cody was left alone with Ghost, who was still nuzzling their face into his leg.

“Okay,” he said, slipping an arm beneath them and carefully keeping them against his front as he rolled onto his back and sat up. “First thing, I’m going to go grab some food for both of us, and then you’re going to take a shower.”

Ghost tilted their head back again, whining. Their sharp-sweet smell grew stronger.

“Does it hurt?” Cody asked sympathetically. “I’m sorry. Getting you all clean will help you feel better. I’ll comb out your hair for you too and give it a wash.”

He tugged at the blankets until they were loose enough for him to perch Ghost on his hip and carry them with him into the kitchen. He made his usual food when he didn’t want to eat – caf with protein packets mixed into it, rather nasty but efficient – for himself, and heated up some of the fresh milk that the Jedi insisted on giving all of them every week (along with meat, fruit, vegetables, and bread, to their bewilderment) for Ghost. He poured both of their drinks into two of the lidded cups he had been given that kept things warm and took them into the refresher with him.

Ghost seemed content enough to sit on the rug and lean against the wall while he studied his options.

The quarters had both an old but functional sonic-water shower unit like he was used to and a deep square tub that could be filled with water. Cody briefly wondered how old this part of the Temple was to have such an archaic and space-wasting form of bathing, and then shook himself. It wasn’t important.

“Will you be upset if I put you in the bath?” he asked Ghost, who was lazily tracking his movements with half-closed eyes.

They stared at him, uncomprehending, and whined softly. Cody sighed and sat down beside them, carefully putting an arm around their shoulders.

“Here,” he said, picking up their cup and guiding the straw to their mouth. “It’s not too hot. Try it, it’s just milk.”

Ghost started as the straw bumped against their closed mouth. Cody reached over and nudged his thumb against their lips before his brain caught up with him, and Ghost opened their mouth just enough for him to slip the straw in.

Their eyes widened as they took the first sip and Cody sagged in relief. They fumbled to hold the cup themselves from under the blanket and he helped them keep it steady.

“All right,” he said as they seemed more stable, holding their cup with blanket-covered hands and their knees drawn up. “I’m going to put some warm water in the bath, and then you’re going to have to get out of the blankets, Ghost.”

Their eyes flicked up to him at the sound of their name, already slightly more alert. Cody smiled at them.

Their head drooped again and they focused on the cup.

Cody filled the bath halfway with warm water and after a moment of hesitation, took off his shirt. Ghost would need help to get in at the very least and would most likely need help to wash, and he was going to get soaked. He turned up the heat in the room for good measure and went back to Ghost.

“You need to take off your clothes now,” he said gently, reaching for the cup.

Ghost clung to it as much as they could with their hands wrapped in blanket and growled at him, stuttering but harsh.

“Shhh,” he calmed, setting it down right beside them, their eyes tracking his every move. “I’m not taking it from you. Let’s get these blankets off first, yes?”

Ghost didn’t help him, but didn’t fight him either. They just leaned back against the fresher wall and stared at him balefully as he unwrapped their cocoon. One hand shot out to grab the cup the second it was free with more animation than he’d seen since they came to him.

He smiled.

Now that there was more light, it was easier for him to recognize the shirt Ghost was wearing. It was actually a stained and threadbare tunic of the same cut and style that he remembered seeing the cadets in the creche wearing. That made it easier for him to find the semi-hidden ties and undo them to gently tug it over Ghost’s head and arms.

He knew as soon as it came over their head that he’d done something wrong. Their grip on the cup loosened so fast that he only caught it through all his training to have superfast reflexes and their eyes went dull and empty. They began to tremble again.

“It’s going to be all right,” he soothed, dropping back into that low rumble. “You’ll be nice and warm in the water, I promise.”

Ghost was limp under his hands as he undid the fastenings on their trousers and pulled them off. He carefully tugged them forward into his arms, only stopping to note that the scent glands on their inner thighs were swollen just like the rest. It was easy enough to lift the small body over the edge and deposit them carefully on the seat built into the square tub.

Ghost did not stop shaking, but they did a full body flinch of surprise when the water first touched their skin, going rigid and gripping onto his arms with surprising strength. Cody winced as a small trickle of blood ran down his arm where their nails dug into his skin.

“It’s not that deep, see?” he said as he set them down fully on the seat; the water only came halfway up their chest, and if they stood up, it would barely reach their thighs. “Fuck, you’re tiny.”

It was even more obvious in the bath built for an average-sized full grown adult that Ghost was small. They would just be able to rest their chin on the edge while sitting down.

Cody straightened up to let Ghost have some time to get used to suddenly being in water before getting soap and possibly freaking them out more by touching them again. He did not expect Ghost to again reach out with a dripping hand and tug at the front of his trousers.

“Hey, no,” he said, removing their hand more gently this time, though he still had to pry the fingers open. “We’re not doing that.”

Ghost stared up at them, tears once again pooling in their eyes. They looked so lost and confused that he sat down beside the bath and hung over the edge, putting his arms around them in a slightly awkward hug from behind, careful to keep his own hands well above their waist. They hiccupped something that might have been a question.

“You don’t have to do that for me to take care of you,” he said firmly into the crown of their head. “You’re not wearing any clothes because you need to get clean, not for any other reason. I’m not doing this so I can look at you like that. It’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen before.”

Cody sighed. “Right, let’s start with washing your hair. That should be safe.”

He stood up and retrieved his soap from the shower, grabbing a comb on the way. Ghost twisted their head around to watch him the entire time with wide eyes.

Getting them to lean forward and put their head under the spray was easier than he thought; they went completely pliant under his hands as soon as he touched them again, letting him arrange their arms to keep them upright as they leaned into the water, using one hand to work it into their thick hair and the other to try and keep them from choking since they were doing absolutely nothing to avoid inhaling the water that ran down their face.

He was surprised to find that they had braided the underside of their hair around several metal objects.

“What are these?” he asked, parting the loose hair so he could undo the now sopping wet braids very slowly with one hand. “I hope they can get wet,” he added after Ghost made no answer, still bent forward even though Cody had turned off the water.

He carefully set the bits of metal aside to dry on the floor and guided them back into the seat. They slumped back against the edge of the bath, beginning to shake again even though they had to be warm by now.

It took almost half an hour and a lot of conditioner, but Cody had finally worked every knot and tangle from Ghost’s hair, washed it, rinsed it, and pinned it up so it wouldn’t get in the way of the rest of their bath. Through it all, Ghost shivered faintly and didn’t make a sound.

“I’m going to drain this and refill it,” he said, eyeing the cloudy water that was losing heat and full of broken strands of fire-golden hair.

Ghost made a harsh little sound in the back of their throat when the water began to gurgle away and once again made an aborted reach for Cody’s trousers, this time looking up at him first with a wild expression.

“No,” Cody said slowly and clearly, catching the hand in both of his just before it could reach him. “No sex. I’m sorry if that’s what you want, but it’s not going to happen.”

“Why?” they said after opening and closing their mouth soundlessly several times, the muscles in their throat working.

He knelt beside the bath, still holding their hand as the water drained and started to drip off of them. “You don’t know me, you aren’t in any condition to understand or consent to what you’re asking for, and you’re not strong enough.”

“I’m strong!” they almost shrieked, suddenly fighting to pull away from him.

“You will be, I’m sure, but right now you can barely stand without holding yourself up with a wall, Ghost. I know that part of it is because your heat is making you sore and your head fuzzy, but I can wrap my hand around your entire upper arm without having trouble. You need to gain weight before you can do anything else.”

Ghost shrugged. “Everyone liked that. Why don’t you?”

“Because if you get any thinner you’re probably going to die.”

“Unimportant.”

“Very important,” Cody argued. “Here. Drink some more of this.” He handed them their cup and smiled as their eyes widened and they made a grab for it with their free hand. It distracted them enough for him to rinse them down to wash away the last pieces of hair and refill the bath with fresh water, filling it only to their knees this time to make it easier to scrub them.

They refused to let go of it even when he stopped holding their other hand to get the soap, and he ended up having to wash them. It took all of his self-control to not upset them with his reaction to the scars and shiny patches of long narrow burns that ran every direction across their back and the raised white lines that curled around their arms, some of the edges raw like they’d been picked at. They also wore an anklet that disturbed him, but they refused to let him take it off and he had to settle with trying to clean under it as best he could to give the irritated skin some relief.

It was really just like giving one of his reluctant vod’adiik a shower, he reflected, only Ghost fought a lot less and the water wasn’t flying absolutely everywhere. He didn’t even have any bites.

In fact, they seemed almost calm now, obediently sitting still as he directed them and only their white-knuckled grip on the cup betrayed their stress.

“I’m not going to touch you in any way but to get you clean,” Cody said as he ran the soapy cloth he was using down between their legs and Ghost’s hands began to shake again, even when he was being as matter-of-fact as he could.

When he was done he rinsed them down with both the faucet and his cupped hands, noting with satisfaction that while they were paler than ever now that the dirt on their skin had been thoroughly defeated, at least they felt warm to the touch and looked more comfortable. The slightly chafed skin beneath the anklet worried him, but he could have Fixer take a look at it later.

The cup was empty by the time he was done and they let him take it with much less reluctance than before. He went to lift them out again and put them down on the floor in the small nest of warm towels he made, but as he tried to pick them up with an arm under their knees and the other under their back, they twisted around and tried to claw themselves upright.

He quickly put them down and wrapped the first towel he could grab around them. They went limp again and almost cracked their head on the wall before he caught them.

“Be careful,” he reminded them.

They stayed completely limp as he dried them off and wrestled them into some of his spare clothes. The shirt was as long as their tunic had been and he had to roll the sleeves up three times to let their hands peek out of the ends; the trousers had to be rolled up four times so they could actually stand without tripping on loose fabric.

He unpinned their hair and dried it carefully, then ran the comb through it a few more times for good measure as they huddled on the floor in the damp towel nest, clothed but still trembling even though their skin no longer felt cold.

They kept trying to reach for their tunic.

“It’s dirty. You can’t wear it right now,” he said.

Ghost made a small frustrated sound and swiped at their eyes. They reached out again and the tunic twitched and then slid itself across the floor to them. They stiffened, but when Cody gave no reaction, they hurriedly scuffled around in it until they snatched up something small and shiny and stuffed it into their shirt. Cody had no idea what it was, but Ghost was clearly upset about the idea of losing it.

“I could put your hair up in some braids if you want,” he offered, trying to distract them and dispel some of the tension in their shoulders. “I know a few. Some of my brothers had longer hair, but never this long.”

Ghost gave a tiny nod, and he quickly divided their hair into two sections, then into three when he saw how much was still in the sections, and wove three simple braids.

“And here’s the stuff you had in your hair,” he said, remembering that he’d set the metal bits down on the floor, sweeping them up into his hand and offering them to Ghost.

Their hand hovered over his for a long moment before they slowly picked the bits one at a time from his palm, seemingly at a loss for what to do with them now that they weren’t in their hair.

“I can find you a box or a little pouch to keep them in,” he offered. “Let’s get back in the nest and all nice and warm and cosy, and then I’ll find something, yeah?”

Ghost made no protest as he picked them up again and settled them on his hip. They only clutched their fistful of metal bits to their chest and stared just past his ear with wide blank eyes.

They stayed silent and still as he lifted them into the nest and shifted the pillows around one-handed until he was satisfied he had the perfect spot for them to lay in and set them down.

Cody hoped, as he left Ghost curled up under a blanket and went to fetch the new materials for his nest that his brothers had left while he was cleaning them up, that he hadn’t made them afraid of him.


	15. Chapter 15

Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. He had been certain that Kote was about to throw him out of his rooms, possibly after smacking him around for a while for daring to touch him and then completely falling apart in front of him.

Instead, he was being held tightly in his arms, the scent of safe-Kote-alpha filling his nose and mouth as his head was tucked beneath Kote’s chin. A hand ran over his back and he felt his muscles quiver at the touch.

Kote’s touch was firm but not rough. It was everything Obi-Wan had dreamed of since he was sent away.

He was saying something, but the heartbeat pounding in Obi-Wan’s ears made it impossible to hear anything. He was vaguely aware that he was still shaking and he really wanted to stop, he was so tired, but he couldn’t.

Suddenly he was being moved and there was nothing but air under his feet. He bit back a terrified scream – the last time he had suddenly found nothing beneath him there had been explosions and pain and he had nearly died – and flailed wildly for something to hang on to. His scrabbling fingers found Kote’s neck and he flung his arms around it, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Kote moved again and there was solid warmth beneath him; he was sitting on something now. Obi-Wan tried to breathe through his panic, though it was hard when he couldn’t stop crying. Kote had him. He was safe. He wasn’t falling. The hand was still moving up and down his back.

He could barely lift his head from Kote’s shoulder, lightheaded from adrenaline, and his muscles all shook as if they had their own minds. After what could have been minutes or hours, the regular sway of Kote’s steps stopped, he was held up a little higher, forcing him to lift his head, and then he was in Kote’s lap and they were both sitting down somewhere dark and warmer and smelling very safe and soothing.

There were voices, but he didn’t smell anyone else there with them. Once there was a sharp noise that cut through the fog of shock and his rising heat to make him jump, but Kote’s strong hand slid around to support his neck and he leaned into it, fresh tears coming to his eyes at the gentleness of his touch.

It was so close to the aching throb of the scent glands on his jaw. He hated that part of being in heat more than all the rest.

If Kote would only move his thumb down just a little. His wrist was so close and he smelled so good. Obi-Wan inhaled as deeply as he could with his hitching breathing and felt the alpha pheromones settle on his tongue and dull the pain just a little.

Amazing. Why hadn’t he ever tried to find an alpha before?

He moved his head a little, trying to get Kote’s hands on the sore spots and see if the scent glands on his wrists would dull the pain too, and keened softly as Kote spoke to him in a low purr that went straight to his bones and made him feel content and safe.

Maybe Kote just needed to see that he was totally on board with this?

Obi-Wan writhed around until he found a good spot to rest his head and tipped his chin up, showing his throat. That should do it, he thought. Surely nobody could misread that kind of invitation?

He started crying harder again when Kote’s fingers finally trailed down the sensitive skin and rubbed over the throbbing scent gland at the base of his throat, gently kneading out the swelling. It was so much nicer than stuffing his sleeve into his mouth to bite on and doing it himself after they’d swollen so much he could hardly breathe through the pain.

It was getting easier to breathe now; he was surrounded by warmth and concerned-alpha scent and slowly the knot of terror in his chest loosened and his tears slowed. Obi-Wan felt vaguely embarrassed about the involuntary noises he was making under Kote’s touch, but the calming scent he was giving off only grew stronger the more he relaxed.

It was a little confusing, because he was sure that Kote had been a beta just a few days before, but he wasn’t going to complain.

The gentle fingers brushed across the kyber crystal threaded into his ear cuff and the Force burst into brilliant color and sound for a moment, and when the touch went away and the Force faded again, he was surprised at the whine his body made trying to bring it back.

He drifted for a while between sleep and drowsy alertness, briefly startling when a new person came in – a beta, one of the soldiers by the scent – but Kote only smelled of relief, so he let the beta examine him, enjoying the gently insistent touches and the brief scenting they did.

The thought came into his head as he listened to the cadence of the beta talking to Kote that they were probably a healer. One of the soldier’s healers. And they were treating him.

Kote was getting him a healer.

He was annoyed when Kote moved him again, holding him up so that the beta could slip a blanket around him and wrap him up tightly, but then the blanket was warm and he didn’t mind the loss of contact so much. As long as Kote kept holding his hand and the blanket was warm, he wasn’t going to complain at all.

“Kote,” he said, intending to say more, but then he was looking right at him and he was so pretty that Obi-Wan’s breath caught and he just stared, mesmerized by the swirls of gold in the dark of his eyes.

Sadly, it didn’t last, and Kote moved him off his lap, but he kept him right beside him and held his hand while the beta probably-healer poked at him. They started talking again after a while, and the beta sounded playful and then serious, but Kote now smelled of relief and happiness, so Obi-Wan let their words wash over him and nuzzled a bit further into the blankets, sighing as Kote slid down and wrapped himself around him in one sinuous movement.

It was so warm and it was amazing. He was always afraid to use too much heat or light in his quarters for fear of being detected and the vents weren’t exactly good at keeping in the warmth. He’d gotten so used to being either cold or chilly all the time that being all wrapped up in heat like this felt almost like he had left his body and merged completely into the Force.

Too soon, something the healer said made Kote sit up quickly, and some of the beautiful warmth was gone. Obi-Wan shifted over until he could edge right up to his leg and relax there, sighing in contentment as he rubbed his cheek and jaw against him, the fabric an adequate substitute for his fingers.

After a while, Kote got the message and put his hand on his head again. It wasn’t quite low enough, but Obi-Wan would take what he could get.

The beta left eventually, and Kote smelled much less afraid. Their visit had clearly calmed him down a lot. Obi-Wan let himself be pulled against his chest and then agreeably wrapped his legs around Kote’s waist when he stood up and took him with him. Maybe he could get him to massage his sore throat again? He tilted his head back, inadvertently whining when the movement pulled on the skin.

“Does it hurt? I’m sorry. Getting you all clean will help you feel better. I’ll comb out your hair for you too and give it a wash.”

Obi-Wan plonked his head down on Kote’s shoulder and frowned a little unhappily. He was clean! He’d wiped himself down at least within the last two days, and just the week before he’d calculated the best time to use the water in the shower unit in his quarters unnoticed and rinsed off. Sure, it had been fast, and it had been a while since he could snag some soap from anywhere so he had only a tiny sliver left and that didn’t exactly help get the dust and grease he collected from moving around the vents off completely, but he had done his best. He was clean.

It had to be the _other_ kind of bath.

Washing his hair, really having the time and safety to take all the braids out, scrub it well and dry it and put them back in, sounded lovely, though. And if Kote was offering to help to save some of the strain on his arms – Obi-Wan suddenly shivered all over, a thrill racing down his spine as he thought of those warm hands combing through his hair, scratching gently over his scalp and soothing all the irritated spots where it regularly got pulled as he slid around the Temple. Maybe that would happen during the rest of everything. Maybe that was the kind of thing Kote liked?

He was so lost in his daydream that he didn’t notice much of Kote was actually doing, and only was jostled out of it when he was gently set down on the floor of what had to be the fresher.

Oh. The bath was happening right now?

“Will you be upset if I put you in the bath?” Kote asked, and Obi-Wan blinked slowly at him. It was considerate of him to ask first, but really, he didn’t have to. He had to know that he could do anything he wanted.

He just wanted to get it started and get it over with before his heat was too far along.

Something cool and smooth bumped against his mouth and he flinched. Then Kote’s hand was on his cheek, thumb running over his lip so very gently, and Obi-Wan instinctively opened his mouth to try and taste the alpha-scent, but then the hand went away and a straw was poked into his mouth instead. A disappointment, he thought, until he tasted what was in the cup at the other end of it; it was faintly sweet and creamy and it was warm.

He hadn’t had truly warm food for months, not since the maintenance droids had come looking around the buried wing his quarters were in, beeping something about power levels.

He clung to the cup with his blanket-covered hands, drawing up his knees to give it more support, and only looked up from it when he heard Kote say “Ghost.”

There must have been a question he didn’t hear, but Kote only smiled at him. Made eye contact, gently, with no anger or accusation in his eyes, and smiled at him.

Obi-Wan lowered his head again to conceal the sudden tears prickling in his eyes and focused on getting more of the warm whatever-it-was out of the cup.

He dimly knew that Kote was moving around and doing things by the bath, but it was still a shock when he came back and reached for the cup. He was shirtless. Obi-Wan clung to the cup, suddenly not wanting this at all, even if Kote was gentle and smelled so nice. He was so tired and sore and couldn’t stop shaking and he didn’t have the energy to be pretty and pleasing and make Kote like him enough to keep him around.

“You need to take off your clothes now,” Kote said, and Obi-Wan snarled at him, shocking himself. He’d never done that to a client before, never shown such blatant disobedience. He was sure Kote was going to hit him for that.

But he didn’t?

He just knelt beside him and began to untangle the mess he’d made of the blankets.

In a last act of defiance, Obi-Wan grabbed the cup the second he had a free arm and hand to do so, clutching it like a shield. Kote only smiled and reached for the ties to his tunic.

Obi-Wan called up the safe space in his head, where he could just watch and take orders and not have to feel. Dimly, he mourned the loss of the cup and whatever the warm stuff was that had been in it.

Kote stripped him, though his hands were gentle and not too fast, and picked him up again. The brush of fabric and skin against the scent glands on his legs was almost too much to bear, and he dug his fingers into Kote’s arms to hold back from shrieking.

Then he was in water, warm water, surrounded by it, sinking down and down and soon the waves would close over his head and when he came up it would be at the end of a slaver’s chain and they would –

The water stopped at the bottom of his ribcage, and he was sitting on something solid, and it was still warmer than the sea. He could feel the textured tiles of the bath under his feet as he moved them a little.

Kote was still there, looking down at him expectantly.

Usually they got into the bath too, but Kote kept being weird about things. Obi-Wan breathed deeply to slow down his heartbeat and set his jaw, and reached obediently for his trousers.

A hand caught his and pried his fingers open before he had time to figure out the fastenings. “Hey, no, we’re not doing that,” Kote said, his tone sad but with the edge of the purr that had been so nice earlier, and Obi-Wan blinked back frustrated tears. If Kote didn’t want him to start with his mouth, what did he want? Why wouldn’t he just tell him? He tried to form the question, but bit back a sob instead.

Kote sat down behind him and a moment later his arms were around him again and he thought that he was finally going to get started on it – maybe he wanted to touch him first? that had happened a few times but not often – but he simply held him loosely, breathing against the top of his head. “You don’t have to do that for me to take care of you. You’re not wearing any clothes because you need to get clean, not for any other reason. I’m not doing this so I can look at you like that. It’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen before.”

Then he sighed, ruffling a warm breath across his hair, and said, “Right, let’s start with washing your hair. That should be safe.”

Obi-Wan obediently let Kote take his arms and arrange them so he was leaning forward, braced against the other side of the bath, his face inches from the steaming water, and only vaguely registered the sensation of gentle fingers tugging through his matted hair, untangling his braids, and scrubbing warm water through it all. Not even the occasional stream of water pouring across his face broke through his daze.

Kote just wanted to make sure he took an actual bath? He just wanted him to be clean? He didn’t want to look or touch or have Obi-Wan service him at all?

He floundered for a word to describe such a person, but the closest he could come was probably ‘Master’, and he had lost any chance at being a padawan years before. Kote wasn’t even a Jedi.

After an eternity Kote had him sit back again and he obeyed, letting his eyes drift close and just focusing on the hands in his hair and the understated scent of the soap Kote was working into it. Sometimes Kote would draw his nails across his scalp just right and Obi-Wan would choke off a soft moan.

The last time he could remember someone washing his hair for him he was when he was still barely old enough to walk.

Eventually the warm water was back, pouring over his tingling head, and Kote did something so that the wet hair sat twisted up in a knot rather than sticking all over his back.

The water in the bath lowered with a sucking noise, and Obi-Wan jerked back to the present.

Had Kote really not taken him in so that he could show him his skills?

He looked up into his face this time as he stretched out a hand for him, but Kote only caught his hand before it had barely left the edge of the bath. He looked . . . sad?

“No, no sex,” Kote enunciated very clearly. “I’m sorry if that’s what you want, but it’s not going to happen.”

If that’s what _he_ wanted? In what world had it ever been about what he wanted? Obi-Wan struggled for words.

“Why?” he eventually croaked. Why not? Why did Kote turn it around and make it about his wants? Why didn’t he think he was pretty enough to want? Why were his preferences even being consulted? Why would they matter?

Kote knelt beside him again, looking at him still so gently. “You don’t know me, you aren’t in any condition to understand or consent to what you’re asking for, and you’re not strong enough.”

Panic ran cold and electric down Obi-Wan’s spine, making his throat feel like it was closing. Not strong enough. Not good enough. Not disciplined enough. Not worth feeding. Not worth keeping.

“I’m strong!” he denied frantically, trying to pull away from Kote’s grip so he couldn’t feel his fear. He had to be strong. Nobody wanted a useless drain on their time and energy and credits.

“You will be, I’m sure, but right now you can barely stand without holding yourself up with a wall, Ghost. I know that part of it is because your heat is making you sore and your head fuzzy, but I can wrap my hand around your entire upper arm without having trouble. You need to gain weight before you can do anything else,” Kote said, but with a curious lack of judgement, censure, or anger in his tone.

Obi-Wan shrugged. His major selling point for the Twi’lek dealer had been the combination of his tiny size and the color of his hair. They were what had convinced him to buy a non-Twi’lek in the first place and they were the things he had been instructed to showcase the most. “Everyone liked that. Why don’t you?” he asked, genuinely baffled at someone not finding it a good thing.

“Because if you get any thinner you’re probably going to die.”

Well, yeah, but they’d taught him how to skirt the line of staying attractive and not dying, and he was doing just fine. “Unimportant,” he argued.

“Very important,” Kote argued back, with such worried conviction in his voice that Obi-Wan couldn’t think of a decent reply. And then he said, “Here. Drink some more of this,” and handed him the cup again.

That was just unfair.

He lapsed back into a half-conscious dream state for the rest of the bath, only stirring twice: once when Kote tried to unclasp the Force-suppressing anklet that was keeping him hidden, and again when he reached between his legs to scrub the scent glands there. The heat of the water had helped them, but they were still sore.

He found himself on the floor again, mostly dry and dressed in unfamiliar clothes. They were soft on the inside and smelled of Kote.

His lightsaber lay in his clothes on the floor just out of reach. He couldn’t just leave it. What would Kote do if he found it? He’d already found the parts for the spare.

Even though he resorted to a frivolous use of the Force to call the tunic to him, Kote didn’t say anything or reprimand him. Obi-Wan hurriedly tucked the lightsaber into his new clothes and hunched protectively over it.

Kote just offered to braid his hair.

Then he handed him the pieces of his spare lightsaber back. Obi-Wan had assumed that he was going to throw them away.

He lay under the blankets in the cushioned place that smelled safe, warm and dry and clean, with food he didn’t have to find for himself for the first time in years, and wondered.


	16. Chapter 16

Ar-Amu hadn’t been around for a few days, but Anakin wasn’t especially worried.

She had warned him from the start that she might disappear with no warning for a while, but had assured him that as long as she could, she would always return. He knew this already, but it had been generous of her to repeat it.

He was honored that she had chosen to speak to him, and speak so often. But he also knew that he was only one of the millions of her children and sometimes she must go to their aid as well.

Anakin was not worried as he sat, back straight, on the sofa in his Master’s quarters, but he did miss her.

Today he was thinking of her more than usual, for someone was coming to talk to him. They needed his help to go and free his mother.

Master Depa was hovering around him, though she seemed nonchalant enough on the outside. He could only tell by the way she sat a little bit closer to him than usual and by the faint trace of worry that leaked through the grip she was keeping on her scent with the Force.

Now that he was more used to it, it was nice to have someone other than his mom worry about him. Even her Master, who was tall and stern and scared him a little bit for all that the man visibly tried to look softer every time he made eye contact, always smelled a bit concerned when he was in his presence and Anakin didn’t mind. He’d never had someone who identified as male be worried for him before.

It felt like years, but eventually the door chime went off and Master Depa led a Jedi into their quarters. Anakin eyed them warily; the fate of his mom could rest in this stranger’s hands. They were not too tall but not too short, almost completely nondescript except for a streak of gold across their cheekbones and the bridge of their nose. They smelled of plain soap and omega buried under a slightly too thin layer of topical suppressants. Like a drifter who wasn’t so poor as to be an easy target, but not so rich as to be a threat.

Good. They wouldn’t stand out in any memorable way at all to an enraged slaver.

“Hey, buddy,” they said. “My name’s Quinlan, he/they. Depa here has asked me to go retrieve your mother.”

Anakin nodded, looking down at his dangling feet. “Anakin,” he answered. “Um. Padawan Skywalker, I mean.”

The corners of Quinlan’s eyes crinkled as he smiled when Anakin risked a quick glance up. “All right. I just need some basic information about your mom for now. Her name, where you’re from, the name of her Depur.”

Anakin’s eyes widened at the use of the Amatakka word for master. “Her name is Shmi. Skywalker. We’re from Tatooine. I mean I was born there but she was from somewhere else. She was captured by the Hutts when she was little. Depur’s name is Watto, he’s a Toydarian.”

Quinlan was entering information into a datapad and nodding. “Good. Where on Tatooine does she live?”

“Mos Espa. The slave quarters. Not in the palace.”

“What does she look like?”

“Like me. Sort of, her hair is darker.” Anakin frowned. He had thought that his memories were clear, but now it was hard to picture her face. “She can still pick me up if the sand’s too deep. My eyes aren’t as dark as her either. And my skin’s lighter, she says that she doesn’t know where I got pale skin from and maybe it was from the suns. Um. Actually she kind of looks like the clone soldiers? Not exactly but they have the same kind of coloring.”

Quinlan raised his head from his datapad and gave Anakin a curious look. Beside him, Depa moved slightly and her scent shifted for a moment.

“All right,” Quinlan said after a pause. “That’s a good start. What does she do? Where would I be most likely to bump into her?”

“She’s a mechanic, she taught me everything. She’s wizard with engines,” Anakin said proudly. “Even better than me, I’ve just got smaller hands now so I can get deeper into them sometimes. Watto would usually have her work during the day and I’d work when it wasn’t so hot because sometimes I’d pass out if I got too hot. In the evenings she would wait with the other mothers for him to let me go and then we’d walk home together. I don’t know what she’s doing now that I’m not there.”

Depa reached over and took his hand. He curled his fingers around hers and held on, biting his lip.

“Is – it’s not gonna make a lot of trouble for you when you go to free her, right?”

“Oh, no,” Quinlan answered, smiling wider. “This is my job. I’m a Shadow, and I specialize in freeing slaves. It’s a bit of a change of pace only going after one instead of a group, but I might get lucky and figure out how to take more than your mother while I’m there, if the Force wills.”

“You _just_ free slaves?” Anakin demanded, voice squeaking in his surprise. “But he said –”

Depa and Quinlan tilted her heads in eerie unison, and he felt their confusion swirl in the Force.

“He said that the Jedi don’t bother freeing slaves. And that it was illegal to buy a slave for any reason even if it was to set them free right after. It’s in the law.”

“Who told you that?” Quinlan asked, sending a quick glance to Depa and then determinedly stilling himself and focusing back on Anakin.

“Mr. Palpatine?” Anakin said uncertainly. “He said I could comm him anytime if I wanted to know about politics. Because Master Jinn broke the law and I should have been sent back to Watto but because I saved Naboo he made it okay and wrote him a pardon?”

“Anakin – First of all – ugh,” Quinlan said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, sighing. “First of all, I’m not mad at you,” he started again, and Depa squeezed his hand and he felt her sending him reassurance through their training bond. Anakin relaxed a little.

“Second, no, that is not true. There is a law that prevents the trafficking of sentient beings in Republic space, including their purchase, but it does not apply to authorized persons who are specifically working to stop or slow the slave trade. I am one of those authorized persons, as is every single member of the Order. Even you could buy a slave and free them under that law, if you had the opportunity.”

Anakin couldn’t hold back an excited little wriggle.

“Third, who is this Mr. Palpatine?”

“Oh,” he said, drooping a little. “Well, he was there after Master Jinn got hurt fighting. He came to neoshiate – negotate –”

“Negotiate?” Depa quietly supplied.

“Negotiate the thing with the bad guys and get them to leave Naboo. Because he’s from Naboo, you know? So when he heard that I came with Master Jinn and I blew up the droid control ship with the other pilots he was really happy and proud of me and said that I was a brave kid and deserved better. I asked him what he meant and he said that Master Jinn broke the law when he bought me and it was technically his legal duty to send me back to Watto and I –” Anakin stopped, cheeks turning pink.

“It’s okay,” Depa soothed, moving closer. “You’re safe here and nobody is taking you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

“Unless it’s to the healers for a checkup,” Quinlan interjected with a grin.

“I might have sort of cried for a while,” Anakin admitted. “I want my mom but I don’t want to go back and be all hot and covered in sand and have Watto hit me every time I mess up. I don’t want my implants put in again.”

“That’s not happening,” Depa said firmly, close enough to put her arm around him and hold him.

“But then he said that because I did a service to the Republic that it’d also be bad if I was sent back to be a slave again, and he could fix it with the people who’re in control of that kind of thing so that I was properly free because he was sure Master Jinn meant well even if he did it wrong.”

“There is a protocol that we are supposed to follow when we bring a freed Force-sensitive child here, but it’s not entirely Master Jinn’s fault that he didn’t follow it completely,” Quinlan said, hand still over his face. “He was in a hurry to get the Queen to Naboo and he is also not very experienced in finding young sensitives or freeing slaves of any kind. He usually takes political bodyguard assignments or ambassadorial requests. It’s been many years since he was on any kind of mission that would have a chance of him stumbling across a slave in need of freedom.”

“Even so, it’s none of Palpatine’s business that he didn’t follow it, since it is internal Jedi business, which is in fact covered by both a founding article of the Republic and a section of the treaty that the Order signed with the Republic many centuries ago,” Depa continued. “Most people don’t study the law deeply enough to just know these facts off the top of their heads, but everyone in the Order learns the laws pertaining to us as padawans, and Palpatine certainly should know them. If he does not, it is almost enough to call for a vote of no confidence on its own.”

“Which brings me to two questions. How did he know that Master Jinn didn’t follow the protocol, and how do you know that he knew?”

Anakin frowned as he parsed Quinlan’s questions. “I don’t know how he knew about Master Jinn, but he gave me a comm when we talked on Naboo and said it was our secret. So I wouldn’t feel as alone in the Temple because I didn’t grow up here and it might be nice for me to talk to a normal civilian, and so he could tell me right away if something bad happened and I had to hide because they were gonna send me back to Watto.”

Depa abruptly felt very, very worried both in her scent and through their bond, but then she drew the Force around herself and he felt nothing but calm reassurance again. “Where is this comm now? Do you still have it?”

“Sort of,” he said, flushing again. “I buried it under a rock in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.”

She blinked at him. “Why?”

“Because having a personal comm can get you killed, right?” Quinlan said softly, and Anakin nodded.

“Got to hide stuff like that. Thieves’ll steal them, or the Masters will find out and . . .” he trailed off. “They’ll think it’s for a rebellion even if it honestly isn’t.”

“Okay, I understand. How much did Palpatine tell you about himself?”

“How do you mean?”

“You just said that he told you that he thought it would be nice for you to talk to a ‘normal civilian’,” Quinlan said neutrally. “Do you know what his first name is? What his job is? Why he was there on Naboo?”

Anakin rocked a little from side to side as he tried to remember. “I don’t know if he has another name, though he looked a bit funny when I called him ‘Mr. Palpatine’ but he didn’t say not to so that’s what I’ve been using. He said he worked for the Senate?”

“Is this him?”

He learned forward and then nodded. “That’s him. Why’s he all dressed up so fancy?”

“Those are the official robes of the Supreme Chancellor,” Depa said, her arm tightening around him just a fraction.

“He’s the Supreme Chancellor? I thought he was a senator or just a servant or something,” Anakin said, worrying at a loose string on his sleeve.

“This is the senator for Naboo, Senator Amidala,” Quinlan said, once again holding up his datapad. Anakin studied the person in the picture and then shook his head.

“I’ve never seen them before.” He hesitated. “If he’s the Chancellor, why’d he give me his personal comm?”

Depa and Quinlan exchanged a look.

“We don’t know, Anakin,” she said softly. “And that worries us a little. Can you understand?”

He was nodding before she finished speaking. “I don’t want – it’s not good to have that kind of thing. It’s not safe, it’s not –” he shivered. “It’s never good to get close to someone who’s a Master,” he said, waving his hands. “And he _lied_ to me about being a Master. I don’t like that!”

“No, it’s not good,” Quinlan agreed. “Especially when you don’t know why they want you.”

“Has he commed you often, Anakin?” Depa asked, ruffling her fingers through his hair.

“About once a week,” he admitted. “Mostly I call him first. I don’t know. I just – Most of the time I don’t mean to, but my feet just take me to the rock and then I comm.”

“How do you feel, after you talk to him?”

“Sort of calm, but sometimes I’m unhappy. Every time I think that maybe I won’t comm again for a while but then I always end up there again. He doesn’t yell or anything, but I don’t think he understands how the Jedi work.”

He leaned into Depa and watched as she visibly had a silent conversation with Quinlan.

“Okay,” Quinlan said to him after frowning thoughtfully at Depa for a while. “This is what we’re going to try to do, but if any of it makes you uncomfortable, you can say no, understand?”

Anakin nodded.

“I’m going to ask you to lower your shields and show me some of your memories of talking to Palpatine. Then we’re going to go get your comm, and Depa will keep it somewhere safe for you. And then we’re going to all go talk to Master Windu and tell him what’s going on.”

Anakin’s eyes were big as he stared at Quinlan.

“You’re not in any trouble,” he reassured. “This is a standard procedure, and I’m one of the people whose responsibility it is to follow up on cases like this.”

“We’re the most worried because you said that you intend to stop comming him, but you keep doing it and you don’t know why,” Depa added. “That is something we have to investigate.”

Quinlan gave him a small but reassuring smile. “I’m very good at my job, Anakin. I won’t hurt your shields or look at anything that isn’t related to Palpatine’s contact with you, or anything else you want me to see.”

“Okay,” Anakin said, his voice small. “Okay.”


	17. Chapter 17

Having someone watching his memories with him felt weird, Anakin decided. Quinlan was visible inside his head, just like he was himself. He didn’t quite know how that worked, but he assured him that it was something he would learn how to do for himself as he built up his shields and grew.

Anakin held on to Quinlan’s hand and stood partially behind him as he watched memory-Anakin repeatedly enter the Room of a Thousand Fountains at odd times, furtively dig up the comm, and then scurry off to a hidden corner and talk to the man for hours.

Had he really talked to him for that long each time? It had only felt like a few minutes.

For some reason, Quinlan had manifested as a much younger version of himself, wearing a padawan braid and with some of the worry lines on his face gone. He said nothing, just wrapped a comforting arm around Anakin and held him close as he watched and listened intently.

Under his careful guidance, Anakin unearthed more memories of talking to Palpatine than he thought he had, and after working through the fourth one, he couldn’t stand hearing the man’s voice again. Almost without conscious thought, he switched the memory to one of Ar-Amu teaching him to read.

Quinlan had stiffened, pulling out a lightsaber, when the memory had shifted so abruptly, but when Anakin had stopped clutching his hand so tightly, he relaxed.

“What’s this, buddy?” he asked, looking curiously at memory-Anakin waiting on his bed. “It feels a lot happier than the other memories.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, feeling suddenly nervous. But some Grandmother or Runner had trusted him enough to teach him about Depur, so surely this was all right? “I was just . . . I don’t wanna think about Palpatine anymore right now. I.” He swallowed. “This is Ar-Amu teaching me. I’ll change it back if you want.”

Quinlan tilted his head and looked strangely at him. “Ar-Amu speaks to you?”

“Yeah! I can’t believe it either! I mean, she spoke to my mom when she gave me to her, but I didn’t expect her to ever speak to me, or at least if she was going to because I’m her child I thought she’d wait until I presented like usual, but when I came here and I was frustrated because I only knew Huttese she started speaking to me.”

Memory-Anakin pulled out his alphabet guide, running careful fingers over it. Anakin’s fingers twitched in the well-known pattern of checking it for damage and wear.

“That’s the alphabet she made me,” he said proudly.

Quinlan moved closer to memory-Anakin, who of course didn’t react. “She told you how to make that? It’s very well done.”

“No, she gave it to me. She made it. I think?”

Anakin was suddenly unsure. Apart from himself, he’d never heard a story of Ar-Amu giving anyone something tangible. Breaking locks, distracting searchers, sending a sandstorm to hide the trail, yes. Actual objects like knives or lockpicks or comms or waterskins, no.

“Maybe because she made me and put me inside mom?” he guessed. “That’s why she can give me things?”

“Has she given you anything else?”

“No, just the alphabet. But she teaches me to read and write and sometimes do maths almost every night. She wasn’t there the day before yesterday and yesterday but that’s fine, I know her other children need her too. She promised to come back to me someday.”

“May I see it when we are back in the world?”

“Sure!” Anakin was happy to show off his most prized possession to someone who understood what it meant. “Can I ask you a question, Master Quinlan?”

“Of course you can,” he said, straightening up and giving him his attention.

“Are you looking into my head because you’re worried I’m being controlled? Like why me and Ahsoka have to get an adult when we go for ice cream even when our Masters say it’s okay?”

Quinlan sighed, and suddenly he looked much, much older even though his body didn’t change. “Yes, Anakin, that is why.”

“The Kenobi rule,” Anakin said thoughtfully. “I was mad when I first learned about it but now I think I like it. It’s nice to have people looking after me; it’s like how the Grandmothers do but here you have more power to actually help. Did you like it when you were a padawan?”

He started a little as Quinlan drew him into a hug. “There was no Kenobi rule when I was small. There should have been. If the adults had done their jobs then my best friend wouldn’t have died.”

“What happened to them?” Anakin said into his chest, not unhappy with being hugged but a little confused.

“They were targeted by a Darksider, who tried to turn them into his apprentice. They resisted even though the crechemasters didn’t realize they were being groomed, but they died trying to get away. I became a Shadow to honor their memory and stop it from ever happening again.”

Anakin frowned in thought. “But why didn’t anyone make a rule then, why’d they wait until the Seer got taken?”

“My friend was the Seer,” Quinlan said, resting his chin on the top of Anakin’s head, wrapping him up in his shields, and Anakin relaxed into it happily. “They didn’t really have many friends, so for a few years it was just me, for them.”

“Why?”

“Their visions made them sick, a lot. They also had very scary nightmares, which would wake all of us up and sometimes they’d accidentally project their nightmares into our heads, which wasn’t fun at all. So the crechemasters made them a shielded room and they lived in there. But kids . . . kids don’t always understand the reasons behind things, you know?”

Anakin nodded. He knew what it felt like to be the ‘weird one’.

“So most of us thought that they were bad, and that having to live apart from everyone was a punishment, and we didn’t want to be around them in case we also got in trouble. I developed a special Force ability as I grew up, which helped me realize that they weren’t bad, just lonely and a little sad, so I tried to be friends with them again. But by that time the Darksider had gotten into Master Yoda’s mind and was also infecting the other crechemasters. Obi-Wan could see what was going on, but they didn’t know what they were seeing. The Darksider made the crechemasters isolate them even more so that they couldn’t warn anyone and even if they did, everyone would think they were lying.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No. It was horribly unfair and very hard to live through,” he said earnestly. “Do you know, Master Jinn was actually the one who discovered what was going on? He was harder for the Darksider to fool because he is very strongly attuned to the Living Force, and he was sent on the mission to try and rescue Obi-Wan from the Darksider. They were already gone by the time he found the Darksider’s base, but he realized what had happened and when he came back here he managed to fight off the mind tricks long enough to stun Master Yoda and call in a specialized team of healers who managed to break the curse on the Temple and everyone in the Order.”

“Whoa,” Anakin said, turning to look up at Quinlan with wide eyes. “He was awesome when he fought the weird person in the desert, too. I don’t understand why Mr, Palpatine thinks he’s stupid.”

“Yes, Palpatine,” Quinlan said, frowning and loosening his grip. “We need to tell Depa what we’ve found in your memories. Here, I’ll walk you through letting me out and tightening up your shields again.”


	18. Chapter 18

“It seems that Palpatine has been talking to Anakin here for quite some time,” Quinlan began, leaning forward, his spine cracking as he stretched.

Anakin leant gratefully back into Depa’s arms and closed his eyes, worn out from the exertion of showing Quinlan around his memories and forcing them to stay long enough for him to watch them. They had been . . . slippery. Depa ran her fingers through his hair and hummed, low and reverberating. He turned his head and nuzzled at the base of her throat.

“The contact began on Naboo, where he indeed did not identify himself as anything other than ‘a diplomat sent back to his home by the Senate to help resolve the conflict’. He gave Anakin the comm at that point, and I suspect that it might have some additional features that he is unaware of based on the fact that it’s an unusual model. Something I’d expect an undercover agent or a suspicious politician to have, not something I’d give to a child.”

“For recording?” Depa asked.

“Maybe. Thankfully, being buried should be interfering with that. Now, I only saw memories of three comm calls before Anakin got tired, but he’s been contacting him at least once a week.”

“Sorry,” Anakin mumbled. Depa’s purr rumbled up a notch and she rocked him gently from side to side.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” she murmured. “We have time, and these things are tiring and stressful. I am a little puzzled about how you’re finding time to talk to Palpatine, though. Your days are pretty full.”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember. I don’t really remember talking to him very clearly . . .”

Depa and Quinlan exchanged another worried glance. She brushed a finger across her padawan’s forehead.

“Are there any traces?” she asked.

Quinlan nodded once.

“Oh, Anakin,” she said, pulling him bodily into her lap, her scent flaring protective around him. “I’m so sorry. I won’t let him get at you again.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I really don’t remember much of it. Just that I always felt kinda . . . cold? and a bit yucky after we talked, but he never asked me to turn the video on or touch myself or anything. Mostly it was all about politics and schoolwork.”

“That’s good,” she said.

“From some points of view,” Quinlan muttered. She glared at him. “Hey, I’m just saying, people usually save footage like that, we can slice it, Palpatine loses his position in a giant scandal. But there’s no hard proof of anything – beyond the sheer creepiness of an older man with lots of power secretly corresponding with a nine-year-old recently freed slave and telling him to keep it quiet.”

“I think it’s suspicious that he’s casting aspersions on the Order. He knows that what he told Anakin is untrue.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anything else from someone like him,” Quinlan said flatly. He looked at Anakin, curled up in her lap, with critical appraisal. “Powerful and vulnerable – never a good combination. I suggest limiting trips out of Temple, Depa. Just for now, after he realizes that the comm is gone. I will also be updating Temple security and asking for an increase in the guards.”

“What about the traces?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “That’s the bright spot; it’s not too bad yet. A few sessions with the Healers should get you all fixed up in no time, Anakin. It’s nothing to be stressed about. Nobody will judge you or blame you.”

“What’s wrong w’me?” he said sleepily.

“Nothing is wrong with _you_ ,” he emphasized. “Someone’s attempting to influence you, maybe control your thoughts and get you to distrust Depa and your friends.”

“Mmmm. I like Depa.”

“I’m glad,” she said, turning her head to graze the scent glands under her jaw across his brow. “Don’t worry, we’re taking care of it. We won’t let him hurt you or anyone else.”

“I’ll go notify the Healers and start the security upgrades,” Quinlan said, standing up. “And then I’m off to Tatooine.”

“Oh! I promised Master Quinlan I’d show him my alphabet,” Anakin said, almost cracking his head on Depa’s chin as he suddenly flailed upright. He dug around in his sleeve and pulled out the well-worn scrap of fabric. “This came from Ar-Amu,” he said, carefully unfolding it and holding it up.

Quinlan moved closer to crouch in front of them, studying the guide with curiosity evident in his eyes and his scent. He did not touch it.

“Anakin,” he said. “When I touch things, I can get impressions of the people who have handled them before me. May I do that to your alphabet?”

“That sounds cool. Can I learn to do that?”

“A little, yes, but I was born with my ability. That’s why I always wear gloves, because I sense the past of anything that touches my skin.”

“Is that why you figured out that the Seer was lonely?”

“Yes, it helped. But now I’m curious about Ar-Amu’s gift to you, and I’d like to see what I can sense from it.”

Anakin looked down at the cloth, rubbing the edge between his fingers. “You won’t hurt it?”

“I won’t hurt it. You can hold it the whole time. I’ll just touch it.”

He held out the cloth. Quinlan pulled off one of his gloves and reached out to rest the tips of his fingers against it.

Depa watched as his eyes closed and a muscle in his jaw ticked. For a moment, he lost all grip on his scent and it billowed around him in a cloud of confused-protect-sad-alpha, before he visibly steeled himself and reined it in again.

“I – that’s very weird,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t know what to make of it. It’s – their impression is so faint, but I know it.”

“Ar-Amu is good at hiding us,” Anakin offered.

Quinlan shook his head, braids whipping about him. “No, it’s different than something like that. I know those hands. I know that scent. I just can’t remember. Ah, well.” He snatched his hand back and slid the glove on, wrapping himself back up in the Force. “I’ll let you know if I remember something, kid," he said, and wrapped a hand around Anakin’s small pale one and squeezed gently before letting go and turning to the door.

“Quinlan,” said Depa.

“No, it’s not anything bad,” he reassured hurriedly. “It just startled me, is all. I don’t get impressions like that often. It wasn’t malicious or Dark, though. Well. Before today I’ve never touched something made by a spirit, after all.”

After the door closed behind him, she sighed and shifted Anakin so she could stand up, carrying him on her hip. He wrapped his arms around her neck and sniffled.

“It’s going to be okay, Anakin. We’re just going to go get the comm Palpatine gave you now, before anyone else finds it, and then we can come right back here.”

His fingers tightened, accidentally pulling at strands of her hair. She winced and tilted her head, trying to free them. “I don’t wanna have another chip. I just got it out, I won’t go back.”

“You won’t,” she soothed, opening the door and stepping out into the hall. “I won’t let anyone do that to you again.”

“But if someone’s in my head, they don’t need –”

“I won’t let anyone do that to you,” she repeated. “Quinlan is telling the Healers right now, so the knowledge is safe. Even if we are made to forget, they won’t. They train for this kind of thing. And soon the Council will know, and they won’t forget either.”

“You’re on the Council,” he said with a watery giggle.

“So I am,” she said, pressing her cheek to his hair and smiling. “How silly of me.”

“An’ Master Windu’s on the Council.”

“He is.”

“An’ so’s Master Plo.”

“Indeed.”

“Master Windu likes me, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, of course he does.”

“He’s kinda scary,” Anakin confided, and Depa held back a laugh.

“He looks scary, but he’s not,” she assured. “It’s just the way his face is put together.”

“Okay.” He went even more boneless in her arms and his breathing evened out.

Getting the comm from under its rock was easy, and she scooped it into an evidence bag and tucked it securely into her pocket without even putting her padawan down. He clung to her, half asleep as she left the Room of a Thousand Fountains and walked slowly towards the residence wing.

Her feet took her to her own Master’s door, but she hesitated before knocking. Anakin was worn out and seemed emotionally fragile; was it really the best idea to have his first extended interaction with someone he was already uncertain about right now?

She turned and walked back to their quarters, purring softly as she went.

Anakin’s needs were more important than her own; she could always comm Mace after the child was safely asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

His time with Ghost barely lasted a week before they were scurrying back into the tunnels again, heat over and looking a little less skeletal, at least. He tried to convince them to stay, but they were insistent that they needed to watch over the cadets in the creche and he couldn’t deny them that.

Even after spending days in his nest, kept safe and hidden and cared for, there had still been so much open uncertainty in their face when they had clung to his arm and pleaded to be allowed to still write to him, that even though they weren’t going to stay they would still like to talk.

He had pulled them into his arms as they shivered their way through another anxiety attack and reassured them over and over that they were more than welcome to communicate with him in any way they wanted, to come and stay in his rooms any time, to write or comm or whisper from the walls.

He was definitely going to start leaving food out for them as well as a letter, and it would surprise him if most of his brothers didn’t begin to leave small things lying around for their Ghost, their Nuhaatyc, as well. He had a single holo, taken and printed and deleted from his datapad, of Ghost sleeping curled between his two youngest brothers, Wooley and Rex, their head on Wooley’s chest and their hair flung out over him like a blanket, their toes curled into Rex’s thigh, wrinkling the blacks and making him squirm hilariously as they tickled him in their sleep.

Ghost had barely left the nest until the day they decided to leave for good, only venturing out of it to drag themselves to the fresher and back. They hadn’t even been interested in food unless he practically hand fed them, holding them on his lap and most of the time holding their hand as well. They had looked awful for most of their heat, limp and listless, wanting only to sleep for hours on end and stare blankly when they were awake.

Only in the last day had they been more aware of their surroundings, watching him and his brothers warily, flinching at their movements and louder noises, arching into their touch and turning eagerly into them for warmth when they opened their arms instead of letting themselves be positioned and only making low hums of contentment to show that they did not mind.

It went against all his instincts and common sense to just let Ghost walk away from him, from them, but he knew that Ghost would never trust him again if he forced him to stay where he could be looked after.

So Cody wrote a letter that night when he was alone in the dark and left it on his kitchen counter along with two of the ration bars in the flavor Ghost had liked the best, and tried to sleep without the small body curled into him.

He could no longer stand the silence in the middle of the night and went to sleep with his brothers, crawling into Rex’s bunk and draping himself around his vod’ika, trying to pretend he was two feet shorter and a hundred pounds smaller and the bright hair under his nose was fiery, not pale.

It didn’t work.

~~~*~~~

Far below him, Obi-Wan clutched his stolen prize to his chest and shook, more from sobs than from the cold, trying to believe that he was still warm in Kote’s nest, not alone in the musty scent of his chilly quarters with only a shirt snatched from the pile of laundry as proof that the last week had really happened.

The three child-sized blankets and the two flat pillows he had for his bed seemed more inadequate than ever compared to the beautiful nest that Kote had built and let him spend his heat in. It had been the best week of Obi-Wan’s life that he could remember, even with the misery of his heat clouding it.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe, and the clothes and the food and the warmth and touch that Kote and all his brothers had given him so freely were something that he had never thought he would have again after being thrown out of the creche.

Not to mention the luxury of feeling so clean and soft, his hair brushed and braided properly around the parts of his lightsaber and the bruises and scrapes on his arms and legs from traveling through the walls almost too faded to see.

He wanted to go back, but he knew what would happen if he did.

It wasn’t safe to get attached.

~~~*~~~

_Ghost_

_You can come to any of us any time you want, all right? No matter what you want or need. Please come to us if you’re hungry or sick or lonely, we won’t mind at all, truly. It’s only been a day and already we are missing you terribly. Rex and Wooley and me especially._

_Even if you only want to sit and breathe in a room with someone else, that is just fine. You can have as much space as you like. Please don’t hide and let yourself be hurt because you think that you are a bother or dangerous._

_I promised to tell you about the war but I never did when you were here. This is what I know._

_We are fighting, or are going to be fighting, because there is a group of planets trying to secede from the Republic. They’re called the Separatists._

_The first battle of the war was a year ago. It was on Geonosis. I wasn’t old enough to be deployed but I have heard that a Jedi was captured by the Geonosians, another Jedi came to rescue them, and they were going to be executed but we were following the Jedi who went to the rescue and saved them. There was also a Senator of the Republic there for some reason and that was an attack on the Republic and war was officially declared._

_We wiped out the droid factories the Geonosians had secretly built. They have to rebuild them if they want an army. A Count Dooku wanted to ambush the Jedi there and kill most of them but we kept them safe and only a few died. Because they lost their factories and didn’t weaken the Order the war hasn’t properly started yet._

_They say the Separatists are cowards. It sounds very political to me._

_My squad and I are ambassadors to the Jedi so we can learn to work and fight together when the diplomats fail and the fighting starts. Somehow they know it’s going to happen because somebody had visions, or something?_

_There was also an attack by the Trade Federation on a planet called Naboo where something happened and a Jedi almost died, or might be dying slowly. I’m not sure. The Trade Federation was trying to invade the planet, but the suspicious thing is they used an army of battle droids identical to the ones that fought on Geonosis. I’m not sure where that fits into the war and the Separatists because Naboo isn’t trying to secede, but I know that the Senate argues about what happened there a lot._

_Remember to eat your rations. There’s plenty and I’m going to leave you more every day. You need to not be so skinny and then it will be easier for you to stay warm._

_Please come find me or us if you need anything, Nuhaat’ika. Anything at all._

_Kote_


	20. Chapter 20

_Kote,_

_Thank you very much for the food. ~~I’m staying warm like you ordered~~ You don’t need to be bothered to think about leaving me food every day. I can’t possibly eat that much. I’m using all three of my blankets so I am not cold._

_You really don’t have to worry about me. I’m sorry that me not being there is upsetting Rex and Wooley and you. I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. Please don’t bother yourselves about me._

_I don’t understand. Why is it wrong for some worlds to want to leave the Republic? It’s happened before and everything was peaceful. The padawans learn about this in the galactic governmental history class. I don’t think a lot of worlds ever grouped together to leave at once, but star systems with more than one populated planet have left together before._

_There was a Master named Dooku when I was small. I wonder if the Count is a relative. Does the Order know about him? The Count, I mean._

_What do you mean, somebody had visions? Did they See the war? How do they know that diplomacy won’t work? The Republic should try everything to avoid war. The consequences of a civil war would be awful. There are already so many people that have so little and the Jedi can’t help them all, if they’re tied up fighting it’ll be even worse._

_I don’t eat as much as you do but I did eat one of the ration bars. Thank you._

_~~I’m sorry I ran away. I. don’t.~~ _

_How many brothers do you have? I thought that all of you here were all there were. But if you have older brothers who fought already, in a battle, and destroyed droid factories, there must be at least a few thousand of you. How did that happen? Didn’t anyone ask? I thought that cloning sentients on that scale was illegal._

_Not that I don’t want you to be alive it’s just I don’t understand how all this happened._

_I shouldn’t have run away from you. I’m sorry. Nobody has seen me for a long time and sometimes it feels like it’s a weight and when that happens I have to make it stop and I know I shouldn’t have run but I couldn’t help myself I’m sorry please don’t hate me_

_Left_

_~~~*~~~_

_Are you sure you’re all right with only three blankets, Left? That’s not enough for a proper nest. We’ll get some together for you. It’s not a bother. You’re our family now._

_We’re not mad at you. None of us are. That’s not what I meant. We just miss having you around us. I don’t think that we really understand what privacy and personal space is because I don’t think we ever had it before coming here, but the Jedi are really big on it and keep trying to explain it to us and it means that sometimes people just want to be alone, which I think is what you’re saying. Am I right? I want to know so I can help you._

_Also about not walking around without clothes in our barracks. (? We are all confused by this) It’s not that it’s about us being out of uniform, it’s apparently about not wearing anything where they can see us when they pass by? They call it something I don’t remember the word for. Do you know anything about that?_

_Fixer says that someone of your height and weight should be eating at least two ration bars a day. If you feel sick about eating or when you eat he can help you with that. If you can’t come talk to him, we can leave medicine for you. Please let us help you, Ghost. You’re part of us now. We want to make you safe._

_I have about two hundred thousand brothers, and more have been paid for. I don’t know all of them, and most of them are younger than me. We were made on Kamino, which isn’t part of the Republic, so it isn’t subject to the Republic laws on cloning sentients. Honestly I don’t think that the longnecks think we’re sentient. It doesn’t matter anyway, because we’re going to be free of them now._

_The thing about someone having visions is a rumor that’s gone around Kamino for years, probably ever since the first batches were old enough to talk and read. I don’t know how much of it is true, but I believe that at least the basics of it is: someone knew, somehow, that there was going to be an unavoidable war at least a decade in advance and then commissioned us to be the soldiers for the Republic in response to the armies of droids. I heard a name once but I can’t remember it clearly. It had a cee sound and was three or four syllables, not a longneck name, and not sounding like one of the trainers’ names either._

_Count Dooku is a Force-user but I don’t know what kind. If it ever seems appropriate I will ask. I just don’t want to overstep my place. We’re still trying to work out the ranks here._

_I don’t know why the Separatists aren’t allowed to leave. They just aren’t. It’s not our place to understand the politics, just to point and shoot, is what the nicest trainers said when one of us ever dared to ask._

_I didn’t even think. Did I upset you when I took your clothes off? I thought you were uncomfortable because you were in pain so I was just repeating what the natborn medic who didn’t treat us like droids always said when we got physicals. But the Jedi are sort of strange about clothes so did I offend you? I didn’t mean to, I’m very sorry if I did._

_The longnecks trained us for battle but it’s becoming clear that they didn’t train us to live anywhere else but there or to work smoothly with natborn officers. It’s a huge flaw in their training program and it’s a little unsettling._

_Rex says hello and he is working on resizing some vambraces for you so that your arms don’t get so bruised climbing around in the walls. Fixer says hello and that you really do need to eat even if you think you weigh too much (he’s really worried about you, vod). Wooley says hello and that if you want to nap with him anytime you can just drop in. He has a little bag of something soft and I think he wants to give you something but I don’t know what it is._

_I don’t think you were awake, but there were a few other vod’e there in the nest with us, and they also send you their love and want to meet you again sometime when you are ready._

_Kote_

_Fixer and Rex and Wooley_

~~~*~~~

_Hi Ghost,_

_I’m Rex, the one with the white hair. I don’t know how much you remember, but we spent some time napping in Kote’s nest together._

_He said that you preferred to write notes, so I hope it’s ok that I’m writing to you now._

_It was nice to meet you and I would like to be your friend._

_Rex_


End file.
